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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631435">maybe we're okay, kid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaraccoon/pseuds/notaraccoon'>notaraccoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol/Implied Alcohol Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, For the most part, Founder's Era (Naruto), Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hashirama's POV, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It, but only kinda? i just gave the clan heads and minor characters personalities, pretty much the au where hashirama realizes he needed to go about things differently, rated conservatively for language and violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:49:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaraccoon/pseuds/notaraccoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hashirama was a called a god in his lifetime. So what's stopping him from changing the past?</p><p>“I’ll rewrite this whole life and this time there’ll be so much love,<br/>you won’t be able to see beyond it.”<br/>-<i>Backwards</i>, Warsan Shire</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Senju Hashirama &amp; Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>wwwwwww</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue: smoothing out the creases of the universe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>“I’ll rewrite this whole life and this time there’ll be so much love,<br/>
you won’t be able to see beyond it.”<br/>
-<i>Backwards</i>, Warsan Shire<br/>
</p>
</div><hr/><p>“It’s time to go, anija.”</p><p>Hashirama knows. He feels it pulling at him. Crawling into the corners of his vision. </p><p>“I suppose it is,” he sighs. He is so tired. </p><p>“It seems you finally got to settle things with Madara.” His brother’s voice is farther away now. “Let’s leave the rest to the next generation.”</p><p>Everything is numb. His eyes barely work. The world feels thin as a sheet of paper. </p><p>A stray thought presses against Hashirama’s mind.</p><p>“Madara thinks me naïve, huh?” He smiles to himself. “Maybe I am…” He looks up at the sky, dotted with pinpricks of starlight. It would be the last time. He wants to remember it. </p><p>“All I could do is pass on my dream to the ones who came after me,” he says, “but maybe I could have done things differently, too.”</p><p>
  <i>Uchiha Sasuke’s stern and pleading face as he spoke of his brother, his fate a culmination of all the decisions of who came before him.</i>
</p><p>“Maybe I could have made it easier for the next generation…”</p><p>The vague sensation of hand presses against his shoulder. </p><p>“You did everything you could,” Tobriama says softly, “You couldn’t have predicted how this all ended up.”</p><p>Hashirama’s throat burns, full of ash and dust. He is so tired. </p><p>“Maybe I couldn’t save everyone…”</p><p>
  <i>Itama’s body curled tightly against his chest.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Kawarama’s pulse fading to nothing under his fingertips.</i>
</p><p>“Maybe I couldn’t predict everything…”</p><p>
  <i>Madara.</i>
</p><p>Hashirama’s mind halts in its chaos. </p><p>
  <i>Running water.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Smooth, flat stones in his palm. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>A forest with no end in sight.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Is it possible to really show how you feel without showing your guts?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I don’t know… but every time I come here I pray for some way to make it happen.”</i>
</p><p>His friend had drifted so far away from him since those days by the river. </p><p>“Come on, Hashirama,” his brother urges, “we have to go, now.”</p><p>Hashirama swallows the last bit of moisture in his throat. The stray thought is incessant. </p><p>“I’ve done some really impossible things in this life, haven’t I?” He says, voice raw. </p><p>“Yes… I suppose you have.”</p><p>“I made peace between the Senju and Uchiha… ended hundreds of years of war.” </p><p>“… yes…”</p><p>“I founded a village where children could grow up away from the violence we were born into.” The last remnants of Hashirama’s chakra flickers. </p><p>“Where are you going with this?”</p><p>“Well…” Hashirama feels himself smiling. “Maybe I can do a little bit more than nothing.”</p><p>“… I don’t like the way you said that.”</p><p>“And, well, not to brag,” Hashirama continues, feeling some strength return to him, “But I <i>have</i> mastered all five nature styles.”</p><p>“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”</p><p>“I perfected the Mokuton…” </p><p>“Anija…”</p><p>“I even developed my own Senjutsu…”</p><p>“Hashirama, stop this!”</p><p>“What was it they used to call me back in the day?” Hashirama asks. “The god of shinobi, wasn’t it?”</p><p>An almost wicked sense of exhilaration overcomes him, as if he’s about to break every rule ever made. </p><p>“So what’s one more impossible thing to a god?” He asks no one. </p><p>He can’t hear Tobirama’s voice any longer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*tape rewinding noises*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. one more impossible thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hashirama’s senses come back to him one at a time. </p>
<p>For a moment all he can hear is distant birdsong. Minutes pass and the vague sensation of thin fabric shifting over his arms returns. His eyes are already open when they begin to work again. He’s in his room.</p>
<p>He blinks. <i>His room?</i> He sits up quicker than his brain can process and his vision swims with muted color and light. A desk and chair – that he made himself, he absently remembers – piled with neat stacks of paper is pushed up against the far wall. A set of shelves with little rows of bonsai sits next to it. Several baskets of varied species of ivy and snake plants hang from the ceiling by little hooks. A banner of the Senju <i>varja</i> decorates the wall just above his head. </p>
<p>Yep, this… definitely has to be his room. The memory of it had almost faded from his mind. But how… where…? He throws back his blankets carelessly and stumbles over to the shōji and cracks it open. </p>
<p>He’s in the village. Or rather, the beginnings of it. Half-built houses and structures clustered close together cover the land before him. Dawn has only just broken, but workers and villagers are already milling about, mixing cement, delicately handling sheets of glass, and laying foundations. The smell of wood smoke and fresh dirt mixes in the air, and the sound of far away hammer strikes echo off of each building. </p>
<p>Hashirama’s eyes start to ache, then he quickly realizes he has forgotten to blink for several seconds. He staggers back away from the shōji, lungs drawing in shallow breaths of cold morning air. He slowly raises his hands to stare at his empty palms. </p>
<p>“I… did it?” He whispers. His mind is whirring, replaying the last things he remembers as quickly as it can. </p>
<p><i>Stars in the night sky… Madara’s final few breaths… “Maybe I can do a little more than nothing.”</i> </p>
<p>His thoughts are careening out of control. </p>
<p>A question burns on his tongue, more present than others. He reaches for a haori, draped over the back of his chair, throws it on and dashes out into the hallway.  </p>
<p>“Did you sleep in, anija? That’s not like you.” A voice, so familiar it makes his heart stutter, calls out to him from somewhere in the house. It beckons him as he retraces ghostly footsteps he’d made a lifetime ago. </p>
<p>Tobirama is sitting cross-legged at the table in the sitting room, leaning over a stack of loose paper. His glasses are perched on his nose, and his finger wraps loosely around the handle of a mug. </p>
<p>“How late did you stay up?” His brother asks, without looking away from his reading. Hashirama’s lungs feel shrunken and useless. </p>
<p>“Coffee.” Tobirama points at the kettle next to the hearth before taking a sip from his own cup and shuffling around his pages. “You’d better hurry.” He’s still wearing his bedclothes and his almost translucent hair is sticking up in odd places. He hasn’t even put the paint on his face or around his eyes yet. He looks so <i>young</i>.</p>
<p>Hashirama crosses over to him in three strides and slides down to his knees. His brother glances up at him over the rim of his glasses and furrows his brow.</p>
<p>“Hashir-” is all he manages to get out before his brother’s arms are encasing him, his face pressing against the crown of his head. </p>
<p>Tobirama freezes. He raises his hands and tentatively returns the embrace. Hashirama grips onto him tighter, breaths turning into shallow sobs. </p>
<p>“Anija…” Tobirama breathes, not putting much effort into hiding his bewilderment. He begins to rub soothing circles into his brother’s shoulder blades. Hashirama only sobs louder, burying his face into Tobirama’s hair. </p>
<p>“Hashirama, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads, a desperate tone in his voice, “please, what’s happened?”</p>
<p>Hashirama finally softens his embrace, feeling strung out and frayed. He sits back on his ankles and drops his arms to the floor with a dull thud. He doesn’t bother to wipe at the smeared wetness under his eyes. Tobirama is looking at him, pale red eyes darting over his face, brows lined with worry and it breaks his heart a hundred times over. </p>
<p>How can he even <i>begin</i> to tell him what’s happened? What he’s seen? What he knows?</p>
<p>“I had… the worst dream…” He says, barely above a whisper. Tobirama continues to search his expression. Hashirama draws the back of his hand across his eyes, lifts his gaze, and attempts a reassuring smile. </p>
<p>“Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me there,” he sighs, knowing it probably doesn’t sound as comforting as he would have liked. Tobirama is still watching him, intently. </p>
<p>“Hashirama,” he begins, pausing to swallow, “if there was something wrong… you would tell me, right?”</p>
<p>
  <i>Would you even believe me if I told you?</i>
</p>
<p>“You worry too much, Tobi.” Hashirama tries his best not to let his gaze waver. “If something were wrong, you’d be the first to know.”</p>
<p>Tobirama sighs, leaning back. He looks Hashirama up and down one last time before reaching for his mug. “Well then, you’d better get a move on. It sounds like you have a busy day today.”</p>
<p>“Er…” Hashirama grimaces. “Which reminds me… uh… what am I late for, exactly?”</p>
<p>Tobirama throws his signature unimpressed glare at him and Hashirama has missed it so much he can’t bother to feel ashamed. </p>
<p>“Sometimes I can’t believe we’re related,” Tobirama sighs.<br/>
</p><hr/>
<p>“These are the floor plans I had the architect make.” A half-open scroll is nudged across the table into Hashirama’s line of sight. </p>
<p>“Oh, yes, thank you!” Hashirama says, much louder than he intended,  hurriedly picking it up and scanning his eyes over the paper.</p>
<p>“Oh, and…” His client adds, nervously wringing his hands. “She also told me to remind you that the shop is going to have electricity and a gas line. She said she sent you some instructions on what to avoid while you’re building?”</p>
<p>Hashirama tries not to let the near panic he feels show on his face. It feels like eons have passed since he last familiarized himself with permits and regulations and all of the other tedious yet necessary things that creating a village requires. His attempts to recall anything from that time only result in what little he can remember slipping out his grasp. </p>
<p>“Yes, I…” Hashirama starts rifling through the stacks of paper on his makeshift desk he’d made in a hurry on the building plot. “I think I have them… one second…”</p>
<p>His sweaty palms do not help in his endeavor at all. He has to pull him himself together. This poor man just wants his izakaya built, and he’s already been so patient with Hashirama for being late, disorganized, and distrac-</p>
<p>“Madara!” The sound is out of Hashirama’s mouth before his brain has time to properly register his friend’s presence a few meters off. </p>
<p>Madara appears to have been peacefully walking the trail from the (soon-to-be) Uchiha compound to the center of town prior to hearing his name at a frightening volume. His serene morning excursion now interrupted, he jumps and whips his head around to lock frenzied eye contact with him. </p>
<p>“…Hashirama…” He responds, a little winded. He slowly releases the left collar of his mantle that he clutched in his surprise. He clears his throat. “Good morning,” he says, much more calmly. </p>
<p>Hashirama tries really hard to say something. He really does. He’s sure that several seconds have already passed, but thousands of messy thoughts are crowding into his head at the sight of his friend – his real friend.</p>
<p>The first thing he distills from the unbidden tide of emotion is how – well – how <i>well</i> Madara looks. Compared to when he last saw him, at least. His face actually has some color to it, and his skin is really only shade or two lighter than his own. Even from far away his dark eyes glint with that lazy curiosity Hashirama has dearly missed. His hair – well, his hair is as much of an untamed mess as it’s always been, but it has a glossy sheen to it now. He looks real. Alive.</p>
<p>Nothing like the horrible facsimile of ghostly cracked skin and purple ringed eyes he's almost grown accustomed to. </p>
<p>Madara’s pleasant expression is decaying with every passing moment into something akin to worried confusion as he waits for Hashirama to continue the conversation. He opens his mouth to speak just as Hashirama’s brain finally starts working again.</p>
<p>“G-good morning!” Hashirama repeats, waving at him stiltedly. Madara nods slowly. Another beat of silence passes.  </p>
<p>“Well, I won’t disturb you any longer…” Madara darts his eyes away. </p>
<p>“Oh, right, yes – yes, I had better…” Hashirama suddenly remembers he’s kind of in the middle of something. </p>
<p>Madara hums. “I’ll… I’ll see you at the meeting later?” He asks, already turning to walk away.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Hashirama calls. “Yes, I’ll be there!”</p>
<p>He watches his friend hurry along the path until he disappears behind a building. </p>
<p>“That was Uchiha Madara?”</p>
<p>Hashirama almost jumps before quickly remembering he isn’t alone. His client is staring intently at the bit of road that Madara had been occupying moments before, as if he doesn’t quite believe what he's just seen. </p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Hashirama answers, returning his attention back to his unhelpful stacks of paper.</p>
<p>“He’s different than I imagined,” his client says, turning back to Hashirama with a curious look in his eye.  </p>
<p>“How so?” Hashirama asks, tilting his head. </p>
<p>His client looks thoughtful for a moment, scratching his chin. “Less intimidating than I expected.”</p>
<p>Hashirama actually laughs at that. The first real laugh he’s had in a long time, it feels like. Even throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. </p>
<p>“I’m glad you agree,” he eventually chuckles, lungs pleasantly sore, “but I wouldn’t let him hear you say that.”</p>
<p>The smile on his client’s face falters for just a second and he swallows thickly. “Oh…”</p>
<p>“Ah-ha!” Hashirama exclaims, pulling the packet he was looking for out of the pile and holding it up, triumphantly.<br/>
</p><hr/>
<p>“Are you going to be able to handle this today?” Tobirama asks bluntly as they wait for the other clan representatives to arrive. </p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” Hashirama replies, “why do you ask?”</p>
<p>“Because you’ve been bouncing your leg for the past fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>Hashirama freezes, leg included. “What does that have to do-”</p>
<p>“You’re just acting… odd today,” his brother interjects, just as the Yamanaka clan head and her attendants take their seats across from them. “Are you going to be alright?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. </p>
<p>“You have such little faith in me,” Hashirama sniffs, “it’s just a weekly meeting, it’s not like I’m heading into battle.”</p>
<p>Tobirama does not look convinced. He opens his mouth to say something else, but his eyes are drawn to the opening door. Two Uchiha – Hikaku? Hashirama is pretty sure the first one is named Hikaku, but less sure about the other, a woman with wavy purple hair down to her waist – silently shuffle into the room. </p>
<p>“Is Madara not coming?” Tobirama asks them, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Hikaku looks at the empty seat next to him before letting out a sigh.</p>
<p>“He will be,” he assures, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself, as well. </p>
<p>Tobirama hums in acknowledgment. “I’m sure the two of you can bring him up to speed when he gets here?” The both of them nod. </p>
<p>“Well then, why don’t we start with the updates in your correspondence with the Nara, Yamanaka-sama?”</p>
<p>Yamanaka Inori, a tall and elegant woman with her long hair tied back high on the top of her head, gracefully unfurls a scroll in front of her and sets a pair of glasses on her nose. </p>
<p>“I’ve received their list of accommodations in their most recent letter,” she begins, “they’ve requested use of the forest on the Southern outskirts of the…”</p>
<p>Hashirama really tries to listen. He really does. But his concentration is divided between the incredibly important task of bouncing his leg and worrying about why Madara hasn’t shown up yet. He said he would be here, didn’t he? Was he being held up by something? Was their conversation that morning so awkward that Madara was avoiding him? <i>Shit.</i> It certainly hadn’t been Hashirama’s finest moment, sure, but he hoped-</p>
<p>He flinches a little as the door to the meeting hall slams open once again. In trudges Madara himself, not quite scowling but close enough for most peoples’ taste. He flops down in between his clan mates – Naori! That’s the other one’s name, he remembers now – and coughs dryly before crossing his arms over his chest. </p>
<p>He appears to be completely unaware of the fresh trails of smoke coming off his clothes, as if he had been on fire only moments ago. </p>
<p>Hashirama lets out an undignified snort. The entire room turns to look at him. He smacks a hand over his mouth to stop any other noises from escaping. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he manages to say without snickering, “it’s just uh…”</p>
<p>Inori is blinking at him owlishly. He doesn’t need to turn his head to know Tobirama is glaring at him. </p>
<p>“Would you mind not smoking inside, Madara?” He asks, biting his lip to keep from grinning. </p>
<p>The man in question looks down at himself and slowly raises his hand to pat away some ashes that have collected on his shoulder. </p>
<p>“Ah, yes, my apologies,” Madara deadpans, the corner of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile, “you might want to open a window in the meantime.”</p>
<p>Hashirama snorts again, very unsuccessfully disguising it under a cough. Madara lifts his sleeve to cover his mouth, but his eyes are crinkling with barely contained mirth. </p>
<p>“I apologize for interrupting,” Hashirama says after clearing his throat, “please continue, Yamanaka-san.”</p>
<p>Inori nods slowly before returning to her scroll. She conceals the slight, upturned curve of her mouth admirably well, but not well enough that Hashirama doesn’t notice.<br/>
</p><hr/>
<p>“So, this is the list of teaching candidates. I’ve categorized them based on jutsu type and skill set. As for the… Hashirama, are you even listening to me?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Hashirama sits upright in his chair, making a little screeching noise as the chair legs scrape against the floor in the process. </p>
<p>Tobirama sighs heavily, placing his stack of papers a little forcefully on the desk. “Somehow, I doubt that.”</p>
<p>Hashirama drops his forehead on the desk with a clunk. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. </p>
<p>“Look, how about I just go over the academy roster with you later. When you’re…” He gestures vaguely at Hashirama’s entire being with both hands. “…not like this.”</p>
<p>Hashirama opens his mouth to protest but quickly closes it again at the incredibly flat look his brother is leveling him with. </p>
<p>“Go get some rest, Hashirama,” Tobirama says before burying his nose in another file, “clear your head.”</p>
<p>Hashirama dejectedly obeys, making his way from the half-finished skeleton of the academy back to the center of town. As he walks, his eyes are drawn to things that are yet to be. The okonomiyaki stand he remembers visiting with his brother on late nights at the office when all other restaurants had closed hasn’t been built yet. He expects to see the owner of the general store’s children running about and playing along the main street when he remembers they haven’t yet been born. The land where the Hokage tower would eventually be hasn’t even been cleared. Never in all his years did he think he would one day feel like a stranger walking these streets.</p>
<p>Foggy recognition and muscle memory guide him home. He stiffly removes his shoes in the entryway before slowly treading down the hallway to his room. He enters and shuts the door behind him. Nothing has changed in the hours since he left. His bedroll and blankets that he’d forgotten to fold and stow that morning are still haphazardly strewn across the floor. </p>
<p>And then, all at once, the weight of everything that’s happened comes crashing down on him.</p>
<p>He takes in a shuddering breath and sinks to his knees. It’s all the same. Everything is the same as he remembers it and he never dreamed that thought would ever cause him so much pain. Unbridled tears spill from his eyes as he collapses to the floor and clutches his knees to his chest. His shoulders shake as he sobs. </p>
<p>He thought he’d lost this forever. </p>
<p>Fuck, he <i>hates</i> this. It feels almost wrong to be here, somehow. His body doesn’t fit right. His skin is pulled too tight around his frame. His stomach flips at this realization and he is suddenly very nauseous. </p>
<p>And now that he’s alone with nothing to distract him, he can feel every twist and churn of his gut as he doubles over. Every frantic contraction of his lungs and every jump of his heart as it hammers in his rib cage. He’s spent so long being dead that being alive is too much. It hurts. </p>
<p>An hour – maybe more? It’s hard to tell – passes before he manages to calm himself. He’s painfully aware of how exhausted he really is now. </p>
<p>Is this real? He asks himself, resting his chin on his knees. Is he really back? He did ask for it, he supposes. Well…<i>demanded</i> for it might be more accurate, if his memory serves him. Good heavens, had he actually strong-armed the powers at be into rewriting the entire universe? That seems like it shouldn’t be possible. </p>
<p>He lifts his hands to examine them again. The tiny creases on his palms shift and pull taught over his fingers. He half-expects them to crack and crumble as he moves. </p>
<p>The sound of the front door opening draws him from the storm cloud of his thoughts. He blinks as he realizes the light from outside has already turned golden and dimmed. How long has he been sitting there?</p>
<p>He hears Tobirama busy about in the kitchen for a while. After the sun has properly set, his brother steps up to his door and gently cracks it open. </p>
<p>“You haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” He says. Hashirama can’t quite answer him, yet.</p>
<p>“I fried some of the trout,” Tobirama continues, “and heated up some rice. Do you want some?” </p>
<p>It takes a few tries for Hashirama to get his throat working again. “I’ll, uh… maybe in a little while. I’m not very hungry.”</p>
<p>Tobirama lingers in the doorway. “Anija, is… is everything really alright?” He asks, softer than before. “You’re worrying me.”</p>
<p>Hashirama has no defense. He searches for words and finds nothing that sounds the least bit genuine. He can’t even look his brother in the eye. Can’t face the concern he knows is there. </p>
<p>Tobirama waits a few more seconds before sighing, resigned. </p>
<p>“I’ll just leave this out for you then. In case you get hungry.” The door slides shut and his footsteps disappear down the hallway. </p>
<p>Hashirama presses his palms into his eye sockets roughly, trying to calm the chaos in him. He sighs, hoping that some of it will slip out with his exhale. </p>
<p>So, what now? </p>
<p>He’s here, isn’t he? Nothing he can do about that, he supposes. Even if he knew how to return, he’s not sure that would be the right thing to do. He drops his hands and listens to the faint sound of crickets outside. </p>
<p>He might as well try to do what he came here for. </p>
<p>But where on earth should he start? He hardly knows how any of the tragedy that would befall the village happens to begin with. He’d tried so hard to help his people thrive. And yet, the massacre of an entire clan… the systemic neglect of the Kyuubi’s jinchuuriki… the deaths of thousands of shinobi… </p>
<p>What if there was nothing to be done, though? What if he really did try his best and just failed the first time around? He could hardly be blamed for forces outside his control. But if that was the case, then why does all that future pain and suffering tug on his soul like an anchor? Why does he feel guilty for things he hadn’t even been alive to witness?</p>
<p>An idea emerges from his crowded mind, clear as a ringing bell. He has to start at the beginning. He has to start with Madara. </p>
<p>Because that’s where this all began, isn’t it? Somehow, a wedge had driven itself between the two of them the first time. If he could prevent that from happening, then maybe… maybe he could do this. </p>
<p>He sits up and rests his chin in his hand. He has to keep Madara from leaving the village. Yes. That’s the first thing he has to do. He… theoretically can <i>ensure</i> Madara never leaves… and never does anything else again, a very dark part of his brain suggests. He shakes his head, flinging that particular thought very far away. He highly doubts that forcing Madara to do anything would benefit anyone in the long run. He’s still as formidable and stubborn as the day they met. And besides, even if the situation did call for a… more permanent solution, he doubts he could go through with it. </p>
<p>But he had gone through with it before. </p>
<p>Guilt swims in his chest at the thought. Killing Madara once was… more than enough. Especially now. Now that he remembers how things used to be. He can’t let that happen again. There has to be a way to go about this peacefully. There just has to. </p>
<p>He stands shakily and goes to the shōji, throwing it open and leaping out into the night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yep so it's another time travel fic. i haven't ever used ao3 to write before so i'm sorry if i make some formatting mistakes lol i haven't used html in forever</p>
<p> </p>
<p>also i finally got a tumblr? i'm @definitely--not--a--raccoon since someone snagged all the good usernames</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. guts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hashirama only gets a little lost on his way to Madara’s house. He makes it easily to the nearly-finished Uchiha compound (it’s hard to miss), but managing to remember which of the closely crowded buildings Madara occupies makes him pause. The night is chillier than it has any right to be, and he briefly curses himself for not putting on heavier clothes before he left. He jogs to keep his blood pumping as he steps up to the door and knocks. </p><p>Nothing stirs inside at first. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and knocks again, louder this time. A distant thud and several muffled curses resonate from somewhere within, accompanied by thunderous footsteps that grow louder and heavier with every step. </p><p>Madara throws open the door, hair falling in his eyes, nemaki hastily tied around him, and Hashirama’s spine vibrates with cold dread as he sees the positively murderous glare on his friend’s face. </p><p>“Hashirama?” Madara’s blood lust shifts into confusion for a moment. “Is everything alright, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, everything’s fine!” He says. “I’m sorry to bother you so late.”</p><p>Madara sighs and rubs at his eyes. “Then what on earth could you possibly have to tell me at this ungodly hour?”</p><p>Hashirama swallows and steels himself before he speaks. “Are you happy?”</p><p>“…what?”</p><p>“Are you happy here, Madara?”</p><p>Madara is halfway through slamming the door closed before Hashirama’s arm shoots forward to wedge it open. </p><p>“Wait, wait, Madara, please!” </p><p>Madara relents in his attempt to break Hashirama’s shoulder on the door frame for a moment and scowls like a cat in a rainstorm. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”</p><p>“Please, I need to know!”</p><p>“Oh, for the love of-” Madara groans, dragging a hand down his face, “I’ll be a lot happier if you let me get back to sleep, Hashirama!”</p><p>“I meant are you happy with the direction the village is going?” Hashirama blurts.</p><p>Madara blinks and cocks his head to the side, as if looking at Hashirama from a different angle will help him make sense of this situation. “What the hell are you talking about?” </p><p>“I just…” Hashirama begins to falter, realizing now just how little he prepared for this interaction. “I mean… I wanted…”</p><p>“Spit it out or I feed you to my falcons!” Madara hisses. </p><p>“This is <i>our</i> village!” Hashirama pleads, reaching out for Madara’s wrists before he can stop himself. Madara freezes, slowly dropping his head to look pointedly at Hashirama’s grip on his forearms. </p><p>“I want you to be as involved in its creation as I am,” he continues, “if there’s anything you think we should be doing differently-”</p><p>Madara yanks his hands out of Hashirama’s hold to throw them up in the air. “I don’t know Hashirama, the damn thing hasn’t even finished being built yet!”</p><p>“But does that mean you’re-”</p><p>“For <i>fuck’s</i> sake, shut up!” An unfamiliar and exasperated voice pierces through the air, making Hashirama startle like a yearling deer. “Go the fuck to sleep!” It shouts out into the night, followed swiftly by the far away sound of a shutter being slammed closed. </p><p>Madara appears to try and take a calming breath, but it sounds much more like an exhausted groan. </p><p>“I guess you’d better come inside,” he says, defeated, motioning him into the entryway, “before we wake up the entire neighborhood.”</p><p>Hashirama steps over the threshold and squints to adjust to the sudden darkness. He toes off his shoes, almost tripping over himself and follows the sound of Madara’s footsteps blindly through the gloom. </p><p>He hears the sound of Madara taking a breath and a tiny flame is exhaled into existence, clinging to the wick of a candle his friend is holding. It doesn’t illuminate much, but at least Hashirama can see where to step now. He’s led into the sitting room and he realizes he doesn’t remember much about Madara’s house at all. </p><p>There isn’t much to remember. It’s very sparse. A kotatsu is the only real piece of furniture in it. The hearth is attached to the wall and his gunbai and scythe are mounted next to it. The only other thing of note in the whole room is a small ceramic pot with a familiar yellow flower in it. </p><p>“Did… did I give you that moth orchid?” Hashirama asks. </p><p>Madara looks at him quizzically as he sets down some floor cushions for them. “Of course you did,” he huffs, “don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten.”</p><p>Hashirama steps closer to inspect it and something fond blossoms in his chest. “You’ve been taking such good care of it…” He says much quieter than he intends. </p><p>“Of course I have,” Madara all but snaps at him, “now sit down.” He points at the cushion across from him. Hashirama obeys.</p><p>“Now,” Madara sighs, leaning over his crossed legs and resting his elbows on his knees, “what’s this really about Hashirama?”</p><p>Hashirama stills at the sincere expression his friend is giving him, all traces of his previous aggravation stowed away. Even so, Madara’s eyes are still so intense, Hashirama remarks to himself. They are fixed  on him in a way that makes his heart jump in his chest, but fills his veins with a focused calm. He inhales deeply to gather his thoughts. </p><p>“You told me once that you wanted to see my guts,” he begins. Madara sits up straighter, gaze sharpening. </p><p>“I know that so much has happened since those days by the river, but…” Hashirama pauses to look down at his hands, hoping to dull the feeling of being torn open by his friend’s eyes. That nail-biting, hand-wringing feeling of being <i>seen</i>. </p><p>“But I never want you to doubt what’s in my insides,” he continues, “I want you to know what’s there and I’d do anything to make you see.”</p><p>He looks up to meet Madara’s eyes again. He hasn’t moved. Doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. He just holds Hashirama’s gaze.</p><p>“I never want you to doubt that you belong here. In this village. As my friend.” Hashirama braces his palms on the ground and leans in. “So I want you to tell me if there’s anything that makes you think otherwise.”</p><p>Madara says nothing, just blinks. Then he shakes his head, chuckling softly. “<i>That’s</i> what you came to bother me in the middle of the night for?” He sits back, propping his hands behind him. </p><p>“I can’t believe you’re already having a nervous break-down about this.”</p><p>“Hey!” Hashirama protests. “I’m being serious-”</p><p>“So am I, idiot, now shut up and listen,” Madara interrupts, “there’s no reason to worry over me. Our village is going to be fine. I’m going to be fine.”</p><p>Hashirama eyes him suspiciously. “Are you just saying that so I leave faster?” Madara lets his head fall back and laughs, loud and careless. </p><p>“Maybe a little,” he admits, smiling, “I do mean it, though. I’m in this with you, Hashirama. I…” His gaze drops, darting across the floor. His throat bobs as he swallows. “I don’t want you to doubt my guts, either,” he says, much softer than before.</p><p>Hashirama searches his face for a few more moments. “Will you at least tell me if there is something wrong? Anything at all?”</p><p>Madara scoffs dramatically, but the corners of his eyes crinkle enough for Hashirama to know he’s (mostly) kidding. “I promise,” he says.</p><p>Hashirama sits back, sighing with relief. </p><p>“Now,” Madara says, standing up, “get out of my house, Senju.” He stomps over to Hashirama and seizes the collar of his yukata.</p><p>“Wait! Wait, Madara, I can walk!” Hashirama begs frantically as his friend yanks on his clothes and drags him across the floor. “Let me up, please!”</p><p>Madara hauls Hashirama to his feet in a single movement and shoves him out the open door. </p><p>“Good <i>night</i>, Hashirama,” he says sharply before slamming the door shut.</p><p>Hashirama straightens up and adjusts his clothes when an unbidden laugh leaves his throat. He snaps his jaw shut and bites the corner of his smile. <i>Gods</i>, he’s missed this. </p><p>He gives the house one last look before darting back out into the night.</p>
<hr/><p>Hashirama has trained as a shinobi his whole life. He’s stealthy. He’s sneaky. He is as subtle as an evening breeze as he slips back into his room. His feet don’t make a sound as they tread across the floorboards. He slides open the door to the hallway, slowly, carefully, but jumps with a startled shriek to see Tobirama standing right outside his door, arms crossed.

</p><p>“You scared the life out of me Tobi,” he breathes, clutching his chest, “I, uh – thought you’d be in bed by now.”</p><p>“Hashirama,” his brother says firmly, eyes narrowing, “should I be worrying about you?”</p><p>Hashirama hangs his head in defeat. “I’m sorry… I’ve probably been acting very strange today,” he says, rubbing a hand over his cheek.</p><p>“Tell me what’s going on,” Tobirama presses, “please… I just want to know you’re alright.” </p><p>A fresh wave of guilt squirms in Hashirama’s chest. “I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he says, “I’m alright. I was… I was anxious about how the village is progressing, I suppose.”</p><p>“And you left in the middle of the night, because…?” Tobirama prompts. </p><p>Hashirama raises his hands in defense. “It’s alright, I just went to talk to Madara, that’s all.”</p><p>Tobirama outright scowls now, arching an eyebrow. “Why? What’s Madara done?” He asks, without a hint of shame.</p><p>“What? No, he hasn’t done anything!” Hashirama protests. “Tobirama, leave him be, he’s not the cause of this.”</p><p>“Then what is?” </p><p>Hashirama sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to mess this up…” He admits softly. “The village, I mean. I want this to go right, so, so badly.”</p><p>Tobirama visibly softens. He uncrosses his arms and puts a hand on Hashirama’s shoulder. “I can’t promise how this is going to end up, anija.” He grips just a bit tighter. “But I do know that you won’t have to do any of this alone. Alright?”</p><p>Hashirama reaches for him and pulls him into a hug. Tobirama tucks his head under his brother’s chin, posture relaxing and arms encircling his middle. </p><p>“I know, Tobi,” Hashirama says, hand resting softly in his brother’s hair. They hold onto each other just a little while longer, free from the responsibility that the daytime brings. For now, they’re just brothers. Nothing more, nothing less.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so i usually have things planned out, cause that's just who i am, but i'm actually still outlining a lot of this story, so sorry it won't be any everyday kind of update schedule sorry ;_; but i have these next few chapters on lock down at least, so i'll definitely stick to a bi-weekly schedule i think, thanks for being patient</p><p>also you all are so sweet!! i'm still learning what the proper protocol for responding to comments is, so give me a little bit to figure that out, but thank you to everyone who's interested!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ledger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>alternatively titled "some mistakes were made"</p><p>angst ahoy </p><p>also some content warning for this chapter include drowning/asphyxiation</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tobirama decides to wait for Madara by the old magnolia tree on the way to the Uchiha compound. The summer sun hasn’t set yet, but hangs with the threat of it just as Madara appears along the path. When he catches sight of Tobirama, he lifts his chin and continues to stride past him, eyes locked straight ahead. </p><p>“Madara,” Tobirama calls after him, pushing away from where he was leaning against the tree trunk. Madara stops without turning around.  “We need to talk,” Tobirama continues. </p><p>Madara turns to look at him then, slow and measured. “Do we?” He asks, voice unnervingly calm. His features are completely impassive, a thick mask doing a poor job of concealing what’s underneath.</p><p>“I’m worried about my brother,” Tobirama says, “do you know why he’s been acting strange the past few weeks?”</p><p>“Have you asked him?” Madara answers.</p><p>Tobirama tries not to roll his eyes. “Of course I’ve asked him,” he sighs, “but he’s keeping something from me.”</p><p>“Is he not allowed to keep secrets?” </p><p>“You know as well as I do how bad he is at lying.” Tobirama is beginning to get irritated. “Look, I just wanted to ask if you knew anything. There’s no reason to be difficult.”</p><p>“Difficult?” Madara repeats, and for a split second, the corner of his mouth twitches into a bare hint of the grimace he’s trying to stifle. </p><p>Tobirama shuts his eyes and exhales slowly through his nose. “I apologize,” he starts, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”</p><p>Then Madara <i>laughs</i>, and Tobirama has to fight his instinct to flinch. It’s absolutely harrowing to hear, a hollow and bitter sound, and Tobirama’s composure threatens to rattle with each harsh cackle. It’s all he can do to wait quietly until Madara calms down a bit, trying his best to hide how unsettled he is. </p><p>“It’s much too late for that, Senju,” Madara chuckles as he turns around, stalking away from him. </p><p>“Madara,” Tobirama calls, “if you don’t want to talk to me, fine. I don’t blame you. But at least make sure he’s alright. Please.”</p><p>Madara pauses, head turning just slightly, considering. Then, he saunters on, a mass of black hair disappearing out of sight through the gate to the compound. </p><p>Tobirama rubs at his temple and sighs.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>The house that Tobirama returns to is much different than the one he left that morning. He does a full double take when he notices there appears to be a completely new wing added to the Western side of the building.</p><p>“Hashirama?” He calls as he steps into the entryway. The only response he gets is a gentle breeze filtering in from down the hall. A new and unvarnished doorway to the right of the kitchen is a dead giveaway that his brother has been busy while he was out. </p><p>The wood hasn’t been sanded down yet – he notices after scraping his fingers on the posts – and the Southern-most wall is completely missing, but aside from that, Hashirama has built an entire corridor and extra room in one afternoon. </p><p>And there sits Hashirama, staring blankly out at the garden from his perch at the edge of the hallway. He’s so far withdrawn into his own thoughts that he practically jumps to his feet when Tobirama clears his throat. </p><p>“Ah, Tobi!” He lets out a relieved sigh. “You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”</p><p>“So,” Tobirama says, glancing around him, “this is new.”</p><p>“Yes, well, I thought we could use some more space,” Hashirama launches into an explanation, “you’ve always said you wanted a workshop at home, so I thought now is as good a time as any.</p><p>“I’m also going to try routing some plumbing in the back rooms, I mean – once this is done of course, but I think it’d make-”</p><p>“Have you eaten yet?” Tobirama interrupts.</p><p>Hashirama takes a second to process the question before smiling, sheepishly. “I guess it slipped my mind,” he admits.</p><p>Tobirama hums in acknowledgment. “Are any of your cucumbers ripe yet?” He asks.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Tobirama…”</p><p>He looks up, waiting for Hashirama to continue. His brother’s eyes are trained on the floor and his fingers are drumming idly on the table. </p><p>“If… if you knew something was going to turn out badly,” Hashirama says, softly, “but couldn’t do anything to stop it…” He trails off. </p><p>Tobirama nearly bites the inside of cheek, the change in conversation catching him off guard. </p><p>“What’s going to turn out badly?” He asks after several seconds of silence pass. </p><p>“Nevermind,” Hashirama says, shaking his head, “I don’t know what I’m saying.”</p><p>“We never really know how anything will turn out,” Tobirama says, trying to prompt his brother into continuing, “this thing… whatever it is, you don’t know if it will fail.”</p><p>Hashirama smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It will unless I do something.”</p><p>“Hashirama, will you please be plain with me?” Tobirama pushes his bowl aside and reaches out to touch his brother’s shoulder. “I can’t stand all these… cryptic ramblings. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be upset with you.”</p><p>A beat of silence passes. “But will you believe me?” Hashirama asks, barely above a whisper. </p><p>That is something Tobirama does not expect him to say. For several moments he doesn’t respond, shaken by the question in a way he can’t yet articulate. Out of all the possible reasons for the badly concealed secrecy, he never considered that Hashirama is afraid of being misunderstood. Least of all by him. </p><p>“Look, anija,” Tobirama eventually manages, “you… you know you can tell me anything, alright? Whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>Hashirama nods weakly, eyes still downcast. Tobirama sighs and stands up, taking his bowl with him to rinse off. </p><p>“You don’t have to finish that if you don’t like it, by the way,” he adds.</p><p>“Sorry,” Hashirama sighs, picking at his half-eaten food, “I think you added too much vinegar.”</p><p>“Any less and you’ll just be eating raw cucumbers, anija,” Tobirama says, “is that what you want?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t mind,” Hashirama answers, smiling. </p><p>Tobirama huffs a laugh and walks into the kitchen, keeping the concern hidden from his features until he’s certain Hashirama can’t see him.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>He waits for Madara in the same spot the next day. Madara doesn’t spare him a glance this time as he keeps walking.</p><p>“Have you spoken to my brother recently?” Tobirama asks as he passes. </p><p>“Perhaps,” Madara responds, not turning around or slowing his pace at all. </p><p>Tobirama falls into step behind him. “Has he said anything unusual to you?” He asks. “Anything he seemed worried about more than-”</p><p>“Believe it or not, I’m not always up your brother’s ass, alright?” Madara whirls around on his heel to hiss. The mask he wore yesterday is gone. An unflinching glare is in its place. </p><p>Tobirama arches an eyebrow. “There’s no need to be vulgar, Mada-”</p><p>“We’re building a village,” Madara continues, “Hashirama probably has thousands of things to worry about that have nothing to do with me!”</p><p>“Two weeks ago he disappeared in the middle of the night claiming to see you,” Tobirama says, as calmly as he can, “I’m finding it harder and harder to believe you don’t have an inkling of what’s going on.”</p><p>“You mean the night he knocked on my door at an unholy hour to ask if I was ‘happy?’” Madara scoffs, a bit of genuine confusion mixing in along with his scowl. “All he was fretting over was some nonsense about getting me more involved in the village’s direction.”</p><p>“Forgive me if I don’t believe that’s all you know.” Tobirama is very irritated now. </p><p>Madara seems to share his sentiments. “What are you accusing me of?” He asks, narrowing his eyes. </p><p>And just like that, the dam of Tobirama’s patience breaks under its own weight. </p><p>“My brother is a good man,” Tobirama begins, “there are many things I admire about him. He is a creature of habit, as I’m sure you are aware. Wakes at the same hour everyday, goes to bed the same time every night. He thrives on routine and familiarity. At his best he is reliable, predictable, stable-”</p><p>“Just get to the point,” Madara snaps.</p><p>“My point is that despite all this, Hashirama is drawn to unpredictable things. He <i>likes</i> them, no matter how bad they are for him. And you Madara,” Tobirama pauses to lift a pointed finger, “<i>you</i> are unpredictable. And if you care about him as much as I think you do, then I don’t see why you’re being purposely evasive… unless you have something to hide.”</p><p>The bones in Madara’s hands crack as he clenches his hands into fists at his sides.</p><p>“I get it,” Tobirama continues, “you’d rather be talking to anyone else in the world, right now. Trust me, the feeling is mutual. But we’re on the same side, now. I want this to work as much as you do. But if I find out you’ve done something to interfere, I’ll-”</p><p>“You’ll <i>what</i>, Senju?” Madara is suddenly inches away from his face, the unearthly glow of the Sharingan staring back at him. </p><p>The hairs on the back of Tobirama’s neck stand on end. He glances around to see they’ve drawn a small crowd of onlookers, nervously watching the two of them argue from a distance. He considers his options, carefully. He needs to de-escalate this situation. Provoking Madara any more will not only foster animosity among the Uchiha, but also greatly upset Hashirama. He has no way of knowing what will make Madara cooperate and tell him what’s going on, but he doubts-</p><p>And suddenly, Tobirama does not care anymore. He is tired of this. </p><p>“I will make sure you never interfere again.” He takes the bait. </p><p>“Why wait?” Madara snarls. “Try me, right now!”</p><p>Tobirama knows he will regret this later. “I think I will,” Tobirama says, smirking, “training grounds. Now.”</p><p>Madara lets out what Tobirama can only describe as a growl before leaping straight up into the air and disappearing into the treetops.</p><p>Tobirama doesn’t feel an ounce of shame in chasing after him.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>Calling the lone empty field outside the civilian section of the village where a few makeshift wooden targets stood the ‘training grounds’ might have been an overstatement on Tobirama’s part, but at least Madara seems to know what he means, regardless. They both reach the edge of the clearing at almost the same time, skidding to halt and leaving shallow, scarring trails in the soil on impact. </p><p>Tobirama stands upright and twists his head slightly to crack his neck. He should have prepared for this situation more carefully, he thinks with some annoyance. He isn’t wearing any armor, today. Although he has a few summoning scrolls tucked into his sleeves, should the need for a weapon arise, his stock is severely limited in its versatility. Madara is most likely as woefully unprepared for battle as he is, but there’s no guarantee-</p><p>He’s broken out of his thoughts as Madara speeds through the signs of a Katon faster than he can blink. </p><p>He feels the burning sting graze his shoulder the instant before he ducks down and flings himself out of the way. He ignores his singed collarbone – refuses to acknowledge it – but Madara is quick as lightning and is already in front of him, spinning a kick directly at his face. </p><p>He blocks, of course, but he gets knocked back a few meters from the force of it. He tastes blood on his tongue. Madara is keeping him on the defensive. This is not going well. </p><p>From a distance, and in the growing dark of the evening, all he can see of Madara is an outline veiled in shadow and two glowing discs of red. His chakra is writhing, scorching hot and oppressive and Tobirama finds it hard to breathe even being near it. </p><p>Thankfully, there is some space between them now, and Tobirama sprints off to the side, circling Madara in the hopes of finding an opening. Madara lets him, leisurely following his path with his eyes, daring him to try. Tobirama chances it. He darts forward, aiming a kick at Madara’s ankles to throw him off balance. For a moment he thinks the hit lands, Madara’s legs going out from under him, but he twists mid-air and gets his palms flat on the ground before vaulting himself back onto his feet. </p><p>“Show him, Tobirama!” Someone shouts, nearly distracting him from a kunai Madara throws right over his head. “Put that Uchiha in his place!” </p><p>A crowd has gathered. It’s almost completely bisected, one half of pale, neutral tones, and the other dark purples and blues. Senju and Uchiha. It’s only a matter of time before this turns into an all out riot at this rate. This is very bad. </p><p>He doesn’t have long to dwell on this before Madara’s knee slams into his rib cage and pins him to the ground. <i>Dammit, bad, bad, very bad</i> – Tobirama frantically tries to tuck his legs underneath him for leverage, but that dry, acrid chakra is bearing down on him and overwhelms his senses like smoke. He gags on it, and he notices too late that Madara’s hands are around his throat. </p><p>Panic, cold and visceral, shoots up his spine as he looks into Madara’s eyes then, sees the near tangible intent in that unearthly gaze, because Madara – <i>oh, shit</i> – Madara is about to kill him. He’s seen that look thousands of times. He knows what that stare means. </p><p>Reflex takes over his hands and he only realizes what he’s doing when he’s halfway through the signs of a Suiton. They’re both instantly drenched, a powerful current wrenching Madara’s grip away from his neck. Tobirama tries his best to stifle his instinct to breathe until the torrent subsides, and he nearly loses control of the jutsu when he does, coughing roughly for a few disorienting seconds. </p><p>Madara springs to his feet, stumbling briefly in the sodden ground, and a split second is all it takes for Tobirama’s terror-stricken mind to fly through some signs and trap him in a water prison. </p><p>And Tobirama just needs a second to think, just a moment to breathe and figure out how to get himself out of this, but Madara is snarling and struggling against the sides of the vortex, his chakra lashing and flaring, and the onlookers are getting louder and closing in on all sides, and he – he just needs a second to <i>think</i>, dammit – and then Madara locks eyes with him, no more than a brief glance, and Tobirama’s panic starts to morph into something very <i>dark</i>, and with a flick of his wrist, the prison starts to flood, water pooling about Madara’s ankles, and a very cruel part of Tobirama <i>revels</i> in watching a truly terrified expression cross Madara’s face as he realizes – as he’s submerged bit by bit, scratching pathetically against the sides, his mouth forming soundless cries as he is engulfed-</p><p>And then a blast of chakra knocks him back, hurling him into the air. He connects with something hard and pain shoots up his arm straight into the back of his skull. He isn’t sure if he cries out or not, his faculties a mess of pain and dazed confusion for half a second before he notices – <i>shit</i>.</p><p>Madara has activated his Susano'o. Inside the village borders.</p><p>Its glowing blue form is almost upon him, shaking the earth and blotting out the sky. Tobirama can’t move, can’t breathe as the monstrous giant pulls back its arm and raises its fist, hovering directly over where he lay in the dirt. He can’t even shut his eyes as it drops down. </p><p>An enormous cracking sound that, for a moment, Tobirama thinks must be his entire skeleton rips through the air. He blinks in confusion when he realizes that he is still very much alive and intact, and looks up to see the Susano'o completely overrun with roots and vines, coiling tightly over every inch of it. It strains against the binds shakily for a moment, then goes still.</p><p>A blanketed silence falls over everything as Hashirama walks slowly to the center of the field. The crowd of remaining spectators part, shuffling nervously away from his presence. He stops and trails his gaze over the scene before him, jaw clenched and eyes serious. </p><p>“Everyone, please return home,” he says, calmly, “this fight is over.” </p><p>The onlookers immediately begin to obey, silently turning away and departing. A few of them linger, throwing venomous glances as each other, but with no real threat of a bite. Soon, the clearing is empty again, except for the three of them.</p><p>Madara deactivates his Susano'o, the vines around its disappearing rib cage pulling taught and coiling around Madara’s body before gently beginning to lower him to the ground. </p><p>Hashirama drops the act; his composed demeanor gives way to frantic concern as he falls to his knees in front of Tobirama.</p><p>“What happened?” He asks, eyes darting over his brother’s body. “Are you hurt? What-”</p><p>“I’ll live anija,” Tobirama says hoarsely, grimacing as he tries to speak. Hashirama reaches out and touches his shoulder lightly, soothing chakra thrumming into his skin. </p><p>“Your humerus is broken,” Hashirama says quietly, almost to himself. He stands suddenly and whirls around.</p><p>“Madara!” He shouts, signaling the vines around his friend to retract. Madara sways on his feet as he is released, breathing heavy and deliberate. “What on earth is happening? Are you injur-”</p><p>“Save your breath, Hashirama!” Madara hisses, snatching his hand away as Hashirama reaches out for it. Hashirama recoils, stunned. </p><p>“Please, I need to see if you’re alright,” Hashirama continues, reaching out again.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Madara mutters, turning away from him.</p><p>“Madara, please-”</p><p>“Just leave me alone!”</p><p>“If you aren’t going to let me look at you, then I insist that you go to the hospital.”</p><p>“Oh, you insist?” Madara whirls around, mouth curled up into a sneer. </p><p>“Please, Madara,” Hashirama says, hands raised, “I just want you to be alright. Please, just go for me?”</p><p>Madara glowers at him dangerously for a few moments, before huffing and dropping his shoulders. </p><p>“I’m going,” he relents. He turns, brushing the debris from the fight from his clothes. Without another word, he darts off into the night. </p><p>Hashirama kneels down again, palms pressing lightly over Tobirama’s arm. </p><p>“This might hurt a bit,” he warns. </p><p>Tobirama takes a deep breath. “I’m ready.” He grunts as the bone sets and begins to heal, then sighs quietly as his brother’s chakra calms his damaged nerve endings.</p><p>“What happened here, Tobirama?” Hashirama asks, eyes full of worry. </p><p>Tobirama sighs, avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze. “Madara and I… had an argument,” he begins, “and we decided to settle our differences in a fight.”</p><p>“A fight?” Hashirama balks. “A fight that ended with a broken arm and a Susano'o? That was not a fight Tobirama, that was a death match.”</p><p>“I’ve been worried about you, alright?” Tobirama admits. “I thought that Madara might know why you’ve been acting off lately, so I confronted him about it. My mistake.”</p><p>“Tobirama…” Hashirama breathes, bracing a hand on the side of his head. “You’re supposed to be the level headed one. You didn’t need to do all that for me.”</p><p>Tobirama laughs bitterly, leaning his head back for a moment. He stills, finally looking Hashirama in the eye.</p><p>“I didn’t fight him for you, anija,” he says, “I fought him for me.”</p><p>Hashirama blinks at him. “… what?”</p><p>“I understand he doesn’t have to like me,” Tobirama continues, “I understand probably better than most… But we are trying to create an entire society from the ground up here. If he can’t get along, he at least needs to be civil.”</p><p>“Tobi…” Hashirama says softly. “It sounds like you weren’t exactly civil to him, either.”</p><p>Tobirama drops his head. “I… I guess not,” he sighs, “I just…” He pauses, searching for words. “I wanted him to answer for all that he’s done, I suppose. All the suffering he’s caused. But I suppose it’s no more than anything I’ve done. Anything I’ve…” He trails off, gaze focused on something very far away.</p><p>Hashirama sits back on his heels, staring blankly at his brother. He thinks for several moments, chewing on his bottom lip.</p><p>“Look,” he begins, shuffling closer and taking his brother’s hands in his, “if we’re going to make this village work, we have to leave this – this ledger behind.”</p><p>Tobirama tilts his head up to look at him. “Ledger?”</p><p>“You know…” Hashirama says, aimlessly waving a hand in the air. “The thing where you keep recor-”</p><p>“I know what a ledger is, anija, I’m just not following your metaphor.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Hashirama scratches his chin, thinks for a moment. </p><p>“We have to stop thinking about the past as if it’s full of debts that haven’t been paid.”</p><p>Tobirama’s expression softens. “Ah.”</p><p>“All of us have blood on our hands,” Hashirama continues, “Uchiha and Senju alike. None of us can pay the debt we owe. We… we just have to let it go.”</p><p>“I…” Tobirama’s gaze falls again. “I’m sorry, anija. I… you make it sound so easy.” </p><p>“It isn’t,” Hashirama says, without hesitation. He grips his brother’s hand, firmly. “Trust me when I say… it isn’t.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for your nice comments ;_; i'm so honored</p><p>still updating every other wednesday for now</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. bricks don't break hearts but straws do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry about the short chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hashirama’s shin cramps for the third time that hour. He’s been bouncing his leg nonstop since he sat himself in the waiting room, left with only his thoughts for company. His very anxious and self-deprecating thoughts. His nicer more pleasant thoughts had not seen fit to grace him that day, apparently.</p><p>His concentration is beginning to turn against him as well, and he finds his focus drawn to the most random things, including a frayed string coming loose from his cuff, a suspicious speck on the tiled floor, and a very strange painting of three, sickly-green goats judgmentally observing him from the other side of the room.</p><p>He sighs, leaning back against the uncomfortable bend of his chair, and begins another staring contest with the goat on the far left, when he hears the soft echo of footsteps coming down the corridor. He looks up to see a nurse approaching him.</p><p>“You can see him now, Hashirama-sama,” the nurse says, gesturing for him to follow.</p><p>“Is he going to be alright?” Hashirama asks, falling into step behind him.</p><p>“Oh, Madara-sama will be just fine” the nurse responds, “but we are keeping him overnight to monitor him for secondary drowning.”</p><p>“D-drowning?” Hashirama repeats, stomach twisting.</p><p>“It isn’t very common,” the nurse – who Hashirama vaguely recalls is named Kusuo – assures, “but occasionally a pulmonary edema can develop if left unchecked.”</p><p>“Madara drowned?!”</p><p>“Yes, that would appear to be the case,” Kusuo answers calmly, “he was trapped inside of one Tobirama-san’s Suiton, it seems.”</p><p>Hashirama drags a hand across his face. Today had been a spectacular kind of horrible. He’d come back to fix the mistakes of his past, not make <em>new</em> ones. How on earth had he already managed to make things worse?</p><p>Kusuo stops in front of one of the many patient rooms (Hashirama is so wrapped up in his thoughts he almost keeps walking past it) and pushes the door open.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry!” He says. “I didn’t know anyone else was visiting.”</p><p>Hashirama peeks over Kusuo’s shoulder into the room. Uchiha Hikaku is standing on the far side of Madara’s bed.</p><p>“That’s quite alright,” he says, “I was just leaving.”</p><p>He glances down at Madara one last time, something very… Hashirama isn’t exactly sure, but it seems like there’s something very pointed in his gaze. Madara doesn’t return it, just stares straight ahead of him.</p><p>Hikaku steps around the bed and out into the hallway, gently brushing Hashirama’s shoulder as he strides past.</p><p>“You can go in, now,” Kusuo urges, motioning him to enter. Hashirama quietly steps inside. The door is shut behind him.</p><p>Madara hasn’t acknowledged his existence yet, still boring holes into the wall opposite him. Hashirama carefully steps up to the bed, making sure his footsteps are heard. He clears his throat, awkwardly.</p><p>“I presume you’re here to scold me,” Madara says, without turning to look at him.</p><p>“What? No, I-” Hashirama begins, shuffling himself into the chair next to the cot and pulling it closer. “I came to ask what was wrong.”</p><p>“I’m in the hospital, Hashirama,” Madara replies, “I thought you could figure that out for yourself.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant,” Hashirama sighs, “what’s going on with you? What caused all this?”</p><p>Madara snorts, one stifled exhale. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Nothing’s wrong.”</p><p>“You told me that weeks ago and now you and my brother are getting into fights out in the open!” Hashirama scoots closer. “Please, Madara, talk to me. You promised to tell me if there’s anything wrong.”</p><p>“There are some things you can’t just <em>fix</em>, Hashirama!” Madara’s head snaps toward him. Hashirama recoils, searching Madara’s face for answers.</p><p>“There are some things you just can’t make better, alright?” Madara snarls, his hands gripping his knees through the fabric of the sheets. “You can’t undo the centuries of war between our clans, just like that. You can’t change what your brother thinks of me or – hell – what my own clan thinks of me! No amount of pretending or diplomacy can change what’s already happened. And no amount of hoping or praying or wishing is going to bring Izu-”</p><p>His jaw snaps shut so quickly it surely bites his tongue. His eyes widen. Pleading.</p><p>Hashirama’s heart lurches in his chest, catching on his ribs.</p><p>“<em>Don’t do it, aniki!” Izuna’s voice was labored. His bloodied hand clutched Madara’s shoulder as his chest struggled to draw in air. “You can’t trust the Senju!”</em></p><p>How long had Izuna been dead by now? Six months? A year? Hashirama’s blood turns cold as he realizes that he doesn’t remember.</p><p>“Madara…” Hashirama unthinkingly reaches his hands across the bed.</p><p>“Don’t touch me!” Madara smacks one of his hands out of the air. His eyes are brimming, threatening to spill at any moment.</p><p>“Madara,” Hashirama whispers, reaching out again, “I am so sorry.”</p><p>“Stop it!” Madara shouts, jostling the tears free, spilling down his cheeks, “I don’t want your pity!” His breaths are shallow.</p><p>“Madara…” Hashirama tries once more and lightly touches his friend’s arm. Madara grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut. He’s gripping his knees so hard they have to hurt.</p><p>“Please,” Madara trembles, “I can’t…”</p><p>“It’s alright,” Hashirama says, coaxing, “I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Damn you, Hashirama,” Madara chokes, dipping his head, “Dammit…” His forehead drops onto Hashirama’s shoulder and he lets out a pitiful sob.</p><p>Hashirama gathers him up in his arms, rocking gently with each shake of Madara’s rib cage. He grips onto Hashirama’s shoulders like a lifeline, crying in earnest now. Hashirama tucks his head into the crook of his neck, smearing Madara’s tears all over his collar.</p><p>“I’m so sorry…” Hashirama repeats, turning into the mound of hair tickling his face. He tentatively starts to stroke the untamed strands, gently enough that he doesn’t pull too hard on the tangles. Madara curls into him tighter, fingers turning into little claws against his shoulder blades and neck.</p><p>And now Hashirama’s traitorous brain has, in this moment, chosen to focus its entire attention on the fact that Madara is not wearing his gloves. The gloves that he always wears. The gloves that Madara hasn’t gone without since he reached adulthood.</p><p>Madara’s bare palms are spread out over the skin of Hashirama’s neck and he shudders unconsciously, the radiating heat of them seeping into his bones. Does Madara have a fever? How can a single man be this warm, it’s – it’s like – and now Hashirama can hardly think over the full-body flush pressing up against his skin – <em>gods, </em>he hopes his face is not a red as it feels.</p><p>It’s several minutes until Madara’s breathing returns to normal. Hashirama manages to wrestle control away from the easily distracted part of his mind and leans back, just enough to look Madara in the face. His eyes are puffy and red, streaks of wet shining under them in the dim light. He is looking very far away, gaze unfocused and hazy.</p><p>“You’re right,” Hashirama whispers, choosing his words very carefully, “I'm beginning to realize that I can’t fix everything. No matter how much I want to.”</p><p>Without thinking too hard about it, he tucks a finger under Madara’s chin and tilts his head up to look in his eyes.</p><p>“But I can at least be here with you. Even if I can’t do anything else, I… you won’t ever have to be alone.”</p><p>Hashirama’s tongue is caught on a word he doesn’t know how to say.</p><p>Madara tiredly searches his face for a moment before shutting his eyes. Without warning, he snorts and bites the corner of his mouth as it tilts up into a grin.</p><p>“I just can’t get rid of you, apparently,” he says, shaking his head.</p><p>“Wh-” Hashirama splutters. “You’re so mean, Madara!” His eyes sting, tears of his own beginning to well up.</p><p>“First, you shanghai me into starting a village with you,” Madara remarks disdainfully, “then, you bang on my door in the middle of the night, and now you’re pestering me while I’m trying to recover.”</p><p>“Pestering you?!” Hashriama says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Fine then, I suppose I’ll just go.”</p><p>“Good riddance,” Madara smiles, crossing his hands over his chest.</p><p>“And I’m taking my nectarines with me,” Hashirama huffs, standing from his chair.</p><p>“Nectarines?”</p><p>Hashirama slips a hand into his sleeve and pulls out a small wicker basket of them, grinning slyly.</p><p>Madara perks up, eyeing him with appreciation before a thought seems to cross his mind and he furrows his brows.</p><p>“Where were you hiding those?” He asks, a bit of concern creeping into his voice.</p><p>Hashirama tosses one over to him. Madara catches it.</p><p>“It’s a secret,” he says, taking another one from the pile and biting into it.</p><p>Madara turns over the fruit in his hands, gaze drifting off again.</p><p>“I know…” He begins, swallowing down something in his throat.</p><p>Hashirama stills, hanging on his next word.</p><p>“I know you want me to talk about it, but I can’t.” Madara manages, as if it costs him something to admit. “Not yet.”</p><p>Hashirama leans forward to pat his shoulder. “I’ll be here until you can,” he says, trying to ignore the guilt curling in his gut.</p><p>If only he had been sent back earlier. Maybe then, Izuna would still be alive. Maybe then, he could look Madara in the eye without the weight around his neck pulling him down.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the goat painting is real by the way, i don't know who made it, but it hangs in my parents' entryway and it haunts and vexes me </p><p>also made just a few small changes to the last chapter cause i wasn't happy with it... still not exactly happy with it, but i'm just gonna move forward and tell the rest of this story cause it needs to get out</p><p>still updating every other wednesday :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. the secret of mushrooms: and other changes in paradigm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s that you’re growing there?”</p><p>Hashirama very nearly falls out of his chair in his haste to stand up. </p><p>“Madara!” He clears his throat messily and tries to make himself presentable, brushing off soil from his clothes and wiping the sweat from his brow. “What a pleasant surprise,” he says, more breathless than he intends.</p><p>Madara stands just beyond the wisteria tree, wrapped up in his usual long-sleeved garb and showing no indication that he is at all affected by the unseasonably hot weather. </p><p>“Have I… caught you at a bad time?” Madara asks, glancing around.</p><p>“Not at all,” Hashirama insists, treading over the inhabitants of his garden carefully, “I was actually, uh, taking a break.”</p><p>“I noticed,” Madara says, giving him a subdued version of his familiar smug smile. His eyes land on something by Hashirama’s feet and his brows furrow, quite suddenly.</p><p>“What on earth are those huge, upturned baskets for?” He asks.</p><p>“What?” Hashirama follows his gaze. “Oh! Yes, those are for vine-borers.”</p><p>Madara raises a prompting eyebrow.</p><p>“Well, they’re… there’s a certain type of moth that lays its eggs in the stalks of squash plants when they start to flower, so I… I made these baskets to protect them… from the moths.”</p><p>“Hashirama,” Madara says, sounding amused for a reason Hashirama couldn’t hope to guess, “why don’t you just grow your squash with the Mokuton?”</p><p>“Come again?”</p><p>“Why don’t you just,” Madara gestures vaguely, “grow them all at once? So you don’t have to deal with the vine-borers.”</p><p>Hashirama starts laughing before the rest of him can catch up. </p><p>“Where’s the fun in that?” Hashirama says, residual chuckles still shaking him. “And besides, I can never get them to taste quite right when I do that.”</p><p>Madara snorts once and shakes his head. “I'll defer to your expertise.”</p><p>“Now then,” Hashirama says, having successfully navigated his way over to his friend without stepping on anything, “to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”</p><p>Madara looks down at his feet. He slowly reveals a squared-shaped bundle, tucked under his arm, and holds it out to Hashirama.</p><p>“I, um…” he begins, uncharacteristically timid, “I came to… formally apologize for what I did… to your brother.”</p><p>Hashriama tries not to audibly gasp. “Madara… you didn’t have to-”</p><p>“It’s the right thing to do,” Madara says, hair falling in his downcast eyes, “please accept this.”</p><p>Hashirama carefully lifts the bundle out of Madara’s hands. The tightly-wrapped contents appear to be made of thick glass, and they feel slightly warm to the touch. </p><p>Hashirama opens his mouth to voice his appreciation but stops at the look on Madara’s face. He follows Madara’s cold stare where it is fixed just above his shoulder. Tobirama’s head is peeking out of the front door, eyeing the both of them warily. </p><p>“Anyway, I should go,” Madara says, already stalking away.</p><p>“Wait, hold on a second,” Hashirama raises a hand to stop him, then turns to shout over his shoulder, “Tobirama, would you come here for a moment?”</p><p>Madara freezes, mid-stride, eyes widening. “What are you doing?” He hisses under his breath.</p><p>“You went to all the trouble to apologize,” Hashirama says, “it’s only fair he gives you the same courtesy.”</p><p>“That really isn’t necessary,” Madara insists, shaking his head, “it wasn’t all that-”</p><p>“Look, Tobirama,” Hashirama nudges his brother’s shoulder as he comes to stand next to him, “Madara dropped by to apologize for the other day. Wasn’t that so <i>nice</i> of him?”</p><p>The unimpressed glare Tobirama gives him would have been far more intimidating without the neck brace. </p><p>“Yes, well, I’ll just get out of your hair then,” Madara says, taking a few steps back, “don’t want to-”</p><p>“Madara,” Tobirama begins, stepping forward. He inhales through his nose, closes his eyes, and calmly bows at the hip, face pointed at the ground. “I am truly sorry for my behavior toward you. I am ashamed of the way I acted. It was inexcusable of me.”</p><p>Madara looks farther out of his depth than Hashirama can recall in recent memory. He’s completely frozen to the spot, eyes blank, jaw slack and forming around soundless words. </p><p>“I-it’s alright,” he eventually manages, “I, um… I really wasn’t much better.”</p><p>Tobirama just hums in response, straightening up and paying close attention to something on the ground. </p><p>“Well, thank you for stopping by,” Hashirama cuts in, seeing that Madara probably needs a break now, “I’ll see you soon?”</p><p>Madara nods once before making his escape and walking briskly out of sight.</p><p>“Could you not have waited to invite him over until my neck was better?” Tobirama grumbles, tugging at the thick cotton under his chin.</p><p>“I told you, he came over on his own,” Hashirama says, inspecting the bundle in his arms, “and quit fussing with that.”</p><p>“He did?” Tobirama actually sounds a little surprised. “Huh… So, what’s that he gave you?”</p><p>Hashirama pulls at the tightly-wrapped fabric. Inside is a ceramic serving dish.</p><p>“He made us food…” Hashirama says, a rush of warmth filling his chest. </p><p>Tobirama peers over his shoulder. “What is it?”</p><p>“Not sure,” Hashirama lifts the lid and sniffs, “but it smells delicious.”<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>“This is…” Hashirama splutters, wiping at the wetness under his eyes and nose, “how can s-something be this spicy?”</p><p>Tobirama doesn’t answer, as he is completely draining a pitcher of water in a single gulp. He scrambles to his feet, dashing outside to the water pump for more.</p><p>Hashirama starts fanning himself with his hands, tongue lolling out of his mouth and panting like a dog. </p><p>“What the hell did Madara put in this?” He gasps.</p><p>Tobirama stumbles back to the table and collapses at his sitting place. “He… he can’t be human,” he groans, weakly. </p><p>They very discreetly dispose of the rest of it in the garden bed.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>“It’s an honor to have you consider an alliance with us,” Hashirama says, pressing his forehead into the floor. </p><p>“There’s no need to be so formal, Senju-sama,” Akimichi Taichi insists, his boisterous tone turning unsure, “please don’t hurt yourself doing that.”</p><p>Hashirama sits up and rubs at the sore spot between his eyebrows. “I apologize for my enthusiasm,” he laughs, “I’m just very excited you took the opportunity to meet with us personally.”</p><p>“Yes, well-” </p><p>“We didn’t expect you to be ready to negotiate right away.”</p><p>“I thought it best we have this conversation in person. You see-”</p><p>“My thoughts exactly. Now, your letters indicated-”</p><p>“Hashirama,” Taichi’s voice is a command. </p><p>Hashirama hopes that no one else hears the click of his jaw as it snaps shut.</p><p>Taichi rests his enormous hands on his knees, a weary sigh leaving his throat.</p><p>“What guarantee can you give me that this alliance you’re offering is not some temporary armistice?” </p><p>“Well, you see, we’re actually in contact with the Land of Fire as we speak. It’s still in the initial stages, but if we can secure a-”</p><p>“I hear rumors, Hashirama,” Taichi interrupts, “rumors that make me doubt that this village is a sustainable way to maintain peace.”</p><p>Hashirama tries his best to swallow his nerves.</p><p>“I’m… not sure I know what you mean.”</p><p>Taichi takes a long sip of his tea before continuing. </p><p>“I’d prefer it if you didn’t play dumb with me,” he says narrowing his eyes, “I’ve heard about that little fight between your brother and the Uchiha clan head.”</p><p>“Akimichi-sama, I can explain-”</p><p>“It would be irresponsible of me to willingly bring my clan into an environment like this. So tell me,” he says, leaning forward, “how can I trust that both the Senju and Uchiha are going to be able to play nice?”</p><p>Taichi takes another sip.</p><p>“This tea is excellent, by the way.”<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>“You look like hell, anija.”</p><p>“… what time is it?” Hashirama groans.</p><p>“Just past one.”</p><p>“In the morning?!”</p><p>Tobirama sighs. “You need some fresh air.”</p><p>It’s a moonless night. Dark clouds drift with purpose across the sky, briefly hiding swaths of starlight far above them.</p><p>“How’d it go?” Tobirama asks.</p><p>Hashirama drops his head into his hand. “They said they’d follow the Nara. If the Nara decide to join, they will, too.”</p><p>“That’s… better than nothing, I suppose.”</p><p>“They heard about what happened.”</p><p>Tobirama’s eyebrows come together for a second before a flash of understanding lights up in his eyes.</p><p>“You mean… oh…”</p><p>Hashirama nods. </p><p>“I’m so sorry, anija.”</p><p>“I can’t have you beating yourself up about it,” Hashirama pats his brother’s shoulder, “it’s all in the past.”</p><p>Tobirama hangs his head.</p><p>Hashirama’s mind is restless. “I think I’m going to go for a walk,” he says.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>In Hashirama’s opinion, one of the best – yet easy to overlook – aspects of living in a single place for a long time was not having to ask his feet too many questions. It’s so wonderfully easy to fall into a routine, walking the same well-worn pathways and familiar roads everyday. It’s so nice not having to think too hard about where he's going. </p><p>It’s when Hashirama gives his feet free reign in an unfamiliar place that he gets himself into trouble. Like now. </p><p>He let’s out a sigh through his nose as he looks around. It’s been at least half an hour since he last checked in with his legs, and now he’s standing in a clearing that he can’t recall ever being in. He grumbles to himself a bit as he flings himself into the branches of the nearest tree, trying to get a better idea of where he’s ended up. He spies the dark outline of the village some few kilometers off and breathes a sigh of – wait. Oh. He knows exactly where he is. His breath catches in his throat. </p><p>It’s much different than it will be. But there’s no mistake.</p><p>And in the stillness of his recognition, he hears something familiar call him home. The rushing waters of the Nakano aren’t far off. </p><p>He lets his feet take him there. </p><p>The gentle incline of the mountainside is a stark contrast to the jagged canyon it will be. Moss and lichen cling to each rock. No harsh reminder of Hashirama’s mistakes are carved out into the cliff face. </p><p>This is the place that will eventually become the Valley of the End. </p><p>Hashirama feels the urgent need to sit down.</p><p>It’s only now that he notices the cold sting in his lungs as he arranges himself onto the smooth pebbles lining the river bank. The clouds are thicker now, bringing the promise of autumn with them. It’s been months since Hashirama’s returned, and he still isn’t any closer to changing the outcome of the future. He second guesses every one of his choices, now. He’s plagued by indecision. If only he <i>knew</i> what he has to do. If only he had a plan.</p><p>“It’s a little late for a stroll, isn’t it?”</p><p>Hashirama scrambles to his feet, head whipping around in the direction of the voice.</p><p>“M-madara?” Hashirama lets some of the coiled tension drop from his shoulders. “What on earth are you doing here?”</p><p>If Hashirama didn’t recognize the unmistakable silhouette of his friend, he might have thought Madara was some kind of evil omen, a dark shape crouched and peering down at him from the tangled branches above.</p><p>“I could ask you the same thing,” Madara remarks, slipping fluidly from his perch to the ground in a single movement. </p><p>“Oh!” Hashirama’s brain trips over itself. “Right, yes, well, I was just… hunting mushrooms.”</p><p>He tries not to wince at his own lie.</p><p>One of Madara’s eyebrows steadily climbs up his forehead. </p><p>“Mushrooms?”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I’ve been – since it’s properly fall now, so I’ve been – now that it’s gotten cold – I’ve been really craving a good mushroom stew! And, well…”</p><p>Madara is staring right into his skull. He’s sure of it. He didn’t even need to lie, dammit, he could have just told Madara that he was just out walking, he would’ve believed that! Stupid! Now he’s caught in this ridiculous lie-</p><p>“Why don’t you just grow them yourself, Hashirama?”</p><p>“Sorry, what?”</p><p>“Why bother going out and looking for them? Why don’t you grow them with the Mokuton?” Madara presses, leaning closer and narrowing his eyes. </p><p>Hashirama blinks, thoroughly unbalanced by the question.</p><p>“Madara, I… I can’t grow mushrooms with the Mokuton.”</p><p>“Why ever not?”</p><p>“Because they aren’t plants.”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, of course they’re plants.”</p><p>“No, they’re not.”</p><p>Madara opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. He rears back suddenly, looking intently into Hashirama’s eyes.</p><p>“…what?”</p><p>“Mushrooms aren’t plants,” Hashirama repeats.</p><p>Madara eyes widen. </p><p>“Hashirama, I swear, if you’re fucking with me-”</p><p>“I’m not!” Hashirama raises his hands in a placating gesture. “They aren’t made of the same thing plants are.”</p><p>“Wh-what?” Madara splutters, the closest thing to a horrified expression Hashirama’s ever seen on his face. “Are you saying that they’re <i>animals</i>?”</p><p>“No, they aren’t animals either.”</p><p>Madara slowly raises a hand to his forehead, eyes darting around frantically as the information sinks in. </p><p>“Then what the fuck are they?!”</p><p>“… they’re mushrooms.”</p><p>“… I need to sit down.”</p><p>Madara does little more than fold up his legs underneath him and plop onto the ground, both hands clutching at the roots of his hair.</p><p>“Kind of turns your world on its side, doesn’t it?” Hashirama chuckles, settling himself next to him.</p><p>“I’m concerned with how calm you’re being about this,” Madara says after a moment.</p><p>“I’ve had a few years to accept it.”</p><p>“Next you’ll be telling me that chickens aren’t actually birds.”</p><p>Hashirama lets out an exhausted laugh, carrying with it all the turmoil from the day.</p><p>“As far as I know, chickens are still birds,” he says, grinning.</p><p>“Anything else you want to share?” Madara asks, the picture of innocence. “Like what you’re <i>actually</i> doing out here this late at night?”</p><p>Hashirama almost swallows his tongue. <i>Uh-oh</i>.</p><p>“Was I that obvious?” Hashirama sighs.</p><p>“You need to get better at lying, old friend,” Madara says, not bothering to hide his amusement. </p><p> “I respectfully disagree,” Hashirama huffs. </p><p>“You also need to stop pouting.”</p><p>“I’m not pouting!” </p><p>“Right…” Madara is outright grinning now. “And you’re clearly not hunting mushrooms either.”</p><p>Hashirama groans, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “it's just... I've had a lot on my mind, lately.” It isn’t a lie, he tells himself. It's not the whole truth, either.  </p><p>“Do you want to…” Madara begins, much more tentatively. “Talk about it?”</p><p>Hashirama thoughtfully chews on the inside of his cheek. “The negotiations with the Akimichi were a bit difficult today. They were concerned about the longevity of the village."</p><p>“What on earth for?”</p><p>“They… somehow found out about you and Tobirama… your, uh…”</p><p>“Oh.” Madara hides behind his bangs. </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>A very determined cricket is chirping nearby. </p><p>“But they didn’t outright say no, thankfully,” Hashirama tries to salvage the conversation, “they’ll just take some extra convincing.”</p><p>“I’m…” Madara sighs like it hurts him. “I’m sorry Hashirama. I’ve really fucked this all up haven’t I?”</p><p>“No more than I have,” Hashirama says without vetting it through his brain at all.</p><p>“Wh-what?” Madara snaps his head toward him, shifting onto his knees. “Now, wait a second, how is this any of your fault?”</p><p>“It’s-”</p><p>“I’m the one who had it out with your brother, okay? Why do you have to feel guilty about something you didn’t do?”</p><p>“Look, I-”</p><p>“Don’t argue with me!” Madara snaps, looking straight into his eyes. “You know I’m right.”</p><p>Hashirama feels his protest get sucked back down into his throat. </p><p>“And what’s more,” Madara jabs a finger into his chest, “you don’t have to deal with everything that’s going on by yourself, you know that?”</p><p>“What do you-”</p><p>“You know exactly what I mean, Hashirama,” Madara actually <i>growls</i>, “you’ve been keeping something in for months now, and it’s eating at you, do not bother trying to denying it.”</p><p>Well. </p><p>Hashirama certainly dug himself into a hole with this one. </p><p>“You haven’t even talked to your brother about it, what’s going-” Madara seems to remember himself and all of his steam is abruptly expelled from him all at once. </p><p>“I’m sorry, that-” He takes a steadying breath. “It’s not right for me to force it out of you. I just… it hurts to see you all worked up over something when I can’t do anything to help.”</p><p>The focus in Madara’s eyes is distilled. Concentrated like a single beam of sunlight through a crack in a wall. </p><p>“You talk about spilling guts, Hashirama, but that has to include both of us. You want to see what’s there, you have to show me, too.”</p><p>“I have something to tell you,” Hashirama blurts.</p><p>He <i>can’t</i>, he tells himself. This isn’t about being afraid of scrutiny and perception. He could handle that.  He’d be ecstatic to be handling that, right now. But this is strategy. And this is about making sure he doesn’t show his hand too soon. He has to keep Madara from leaving, no matter what it costs him.</p><p>But Madara is leaning forward, pressing his palms flat against the pebbles on the bank, looking at him so expectantly, and Hashirama has to say <i>something</i>.</p><p>“I’ve lived this life once before.”</p><p>Madara blinks. Several seconds pass. A disbelieving smile and a pacifying scoff follow. “Come on Hashirama, you can’t be-”</p><p>“I’m deadly serious, Madara.”</p><p>Madara sits back, searching Hashirama’s face for a shred of doubt. His jaw goes slack and his eyes widen when he finds none. </p><p>“That’s… not possible.”</p><p>“I don’t know how,” Hashirama continues, emboldened, “or even why, but I’ve come back. I’m here to try again.”</p><p>Madara looks him up and down, confusion plain as day in his eyes. “That’s… that’s why you’ve been… that means you…”</p><p>He snaps his head up, expression turning stony. “What happened that you came back to change.”</p><p>Hashirama swallows his uncertainty. </p><p>“In less than a decade’s time, you will leave the village.”</p><p>Madara recoils. “M-me?”</p><p>Hashirama nods slowly. </p><p>Madara says nothing for a long time.</p><p>“Why?” He eventually asks, the question so much more than the word. </p><p>And Hashirama has to lie. </p><p>“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head, “that’s what I need to find out.” It’s more of an omission than it is a lie. He almost convinces himself that it’s something Madara doesn’t need to know just yet. Almost. </p><p>“Wait, wait, hold on,” Madara furrows his brow, raising a hand, “you’re telling me that I just up and leave out of the blue, no explanation?”</p><p>Hashirama tries to shrug as casually as he can. “It didn’t make sense to me either.”</p><p>Madara chews on his lip, thinking, before his expression turns abruptly dark. </p><p>“So,” Madara says, voice full of sharp edges now, “you came back so you could stop me.”</p><p>“Well…” Hashirama’s first instinct is to agree, but the look on his friend’s face makes him pause. “No, not exactly, I’m… I didn’t…” He hangs his head, sighing with frustration. “I’m not making sense…”</p><p>“Then <i>explain</i> it to me, Hashirama,” Madara says, eyes narrowing. </p><p>“I didn’t come back to force you or trap you or bargain with you, I came back so I could do things right.” </p><p>It all comes out of Hashirama in a rush before he has any chance to filter it, so it’s no surprise to him that Madara just cocks his head to the side, brows knitted together.</p><p>“I came back to fix my own mistakes,” Hashirama tries again, “the things I have the power to influence. I want you to make your own decisions Madara, but I…” He takes a breath to steady himself. “I never want to give you a reason to leave.”</p><p>If he wasn’t already familiar with Madara’s tells, he would have missed his hands clenching by his sides, nerves snaking up into his shoulders. </p><p>“What if,” Madara says, very carefully, “there’s nothing you can do, Hashirama? What if the future is inevitable?”</p><p>A very cold part of Madara looks him in the eyes as he asks this. </p><p>Hashirama lets out a startled exhale on reflex. He looks down at his hands, gripping the pebbles under his fingers tighter. </p><p>“Do you want to leave?” Hashirama asks, voice shaking.</p><p>Madara is silent for a few moments. “What would you do if I did?”</p><p>And it’s only then that something occurs to Hashirama. Something so obvious to him now that he very nearly slaps a hand to his forehead.</p><p>What Madara is asking isn’t what he really wants to know. Madara might not even know that himself. </p><p>But – thankfully, mercifully – Hashirama does. </p><p>“Then I’ll just have to try again,” Hashirama says, “I’ll come back.”</p><p>Madara blinks, clearly not expecting that answer. “You’ll what?”</p><p>“I managed it once, I’m sure I’ll be able to do it again,” Hashirama smiles, sitting up a bit straighter. “I’ll live this life over a hundred times if I have to.”</p><p>Madara just stares at him for a moment before a crooked smile brightens his face. “That’s a lot of effort to go through, Hashirama.”</p><p>“It has to start with you,” Hashirama says, softer than he means to be, “I know that now. We grew apart, somehow. I don’t want us to drift away.”</p><p>Madara ducks his head, a single laugh escaping his throat. He looks up at Hashirama from under his lashes. “You would do all of that… for me?” The words are so delicate that they almost break.</p><p>“Of course I would, Madara!” Hashirama says. “This is our village, remember? You belong here with me.”</p><p>Madara bites the inside of his cheek. “I… want to belong here, too.” He says, more like an admission than an agreement. </p><p>Hashirama considers his wording and tilts his head. “But you don’t feel like you do?” He asks.</p><p>Madara sighs, eyes downcast.</p><p>“… yes and no,” he says.</p><p>Hashirama tries to reign in the surprise in his expression. “Why is that?” </p><p>Madara is steadfastly looking anywhere but Hashirama. </p><p>“I’m not a good clan leader,” Madara says, dropping his shoulders in defeat, “even before the village… my own clan doesn’t trust me. They think I’m too distant. Too angry. That I’m not adjusting to life here fast enough. And the stunt I pulled last week didn’t help.”</p><p>Hashirama listens, stunned. Madara only ever spoke about his relationship with the rest of the Uchiha when things were very dire the first time around. Maybe this time he can figure out a way to help Madara repair that relationship.</p><p>He’s got to try, at least. He can’t be absolutely sure, but from what he’s learned about Madara in the last five minutes, it’ll make all the difference in the world. Madara just… wants to feel like he belongs. Hashirama should be able to manage that. </p><p>“Then it’s settled,” Hashirama says, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>“…what is?” Madara asks, a hint of worry in his voice.</p><p>“I’m going to help you and your clan get on better terms.”</p><p>“Hashirama, I don’t think-”</p><p>“And I’ll make sure the Senju clean up their act, too. I’ll make some progress with my brother, first.”</p><p>“That’s really not-”</p><p>“I just have to think of some ideas…” Hashirama taps a finger against his chin. “Oh, wait, I’ve got something!”<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>“A festival?” Tobirama asks, suspicion in his eyes. </p><p>“Isn’t it a great idea?” Hashirama beams, leaning forward across the table.</p><p>Tobirama looks thoughtful for about a millisecond. “No, it really isn’t.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so unfortunately the next chapter is going to be a full week late because<br/>1. it's a doozy<br/>2. la gatita and I are making the trip back to school and I will need a few days to K.O. afterward (it is a very long drive)</p><p>but thank you again for your patience and support!!! I will post again on the 12th of august</p><p>ALSO please accept this bonus that i wanted to put in the chapter but couldn't find a place for:</p><p>*sounds of Hashirama screaming bloody murder*</p><p>"Madara?? You scared me half to death! What are you doing here-"</p><p>"If mushrooms aren't made of plants, then what are they made of."</p><p>"...what?"</p><p>"You said they aren't made out of the same things plants are, so what <i>are</i> they made of, huh? Flesh?"</p><p>"You broke into my house... in the middle of the night... to ask me about mushrooms?"</p><p>"Answer the question, Hashirama."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. "bonding activities"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“A festival?” Tobirama asks, suspicion in his eyes. </p><p>“Isn’t it a great idea?” Hashirama beams, leaning forward across the table.</p><p>Tobirama looks thoughtful for about a millisecond. “No, it really isn’t.”</p><p>“For once, I think we agree on something,” Madara mumbles, slouching in his seat.</p><p>“Oh, come on you two,” Hashirama says, “what objections could you possibly have?”</p><p>“Firstly, the daimyo arrives in a fortnight,” Tobirama responds plainly, listing with his fingers, “secondly, we’re still in negotiations with the Akimichi and Nara, and thirdly, the academy is scheduled to open in a month. How are we going to prepare for hosting the daimyo and his entourage, arrange diplomatic meetings with him and the rest of the clan heads, finish the curriculum for the academy students, <i>and</i> plan a festival at the same time?”</p><p>Hashirama has once again greatly underestimated his brother’s ability to object to anything. </p><p>“We can invite the daimyo,” Hashirama says, still trying to sound confident, “and the Akimichi and Nara for that matter. We can kill two birds with one stone.”</p><p>“Remind me again what birds we’re trying to kill with this stone of yours?” Madara says, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>“Well, since the both of you decided to try and kill each other in front of the entire village,” Hashirama says, smiling pleasantly, “we need to find a quick way to foster some inter-clan cooperation without causing any riots, and <i>you two</i> are going to help me think of ideas.”</p><p>They both have the decency to look reasonably ashamed for a few moments.</p><p>“I’m not sure Madara and I are very qualified for coming up with ideas for… bonding activities,” Tobirama says.</p><p>“You most definitely aren’t if you’re going to refer to them as ‘bonding activities,’” Madara mutters.</p><p> “Nonsense!” Hashirama says cheerily. “It’s not as if either of you haven’t been to a festival before. Now, just help me think of some things we can do to draw crowds.”</p><p>“Attending a festival is very different from planning one,” Tobirama protests.</p><p>“… we’ll have to have food,” Madara suggests.</p><p>“Perfect!” Hashirama says, scribbling something down on a piece of paper.</p><p>“No, stop, don’t write that,” Tobirama warns.</p><p>“And music, too…” Madara continues thoughtfully.</p><p>“We’re not having a festival,” Tobirama insists, slamming a hand down on the table, “stop thinking of festival ideas.”</p><p>“Do you have any better suggestions?” Hashirama asks.</p><p>“Wait until after we’ve dealt with the daimyo!” Tobirama throws his hands up. “Or at least until we’ve secured the Nara and Akimichi. We can’t possibly handle a festival on top of that.”</p><p>“What if the daimyo doesn’t want to partner with us because he heard about your little ‘argument’ with Madara?” Hashirama says.</p><p>Tobirama is silent.</p><p>“If we have the festival while the daimyo is here he can see for himself how well the clans have unified,” Hashirama continues, “we can even have it in his honor! That certainly can’t hurt our chances of gaining his favor.”</p><p>“That is a good point…” Madara says.</p><p>Tobirama chews on the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“And if we invite the Nara and Akimichi,” Hashirama says, “then that should assuage any doubts they have about joining.”</p><p>“It’s dangerous turning something like a festival into a political move,” Tobirama says, rubbing at his eyes, “there’s too much that could go wrong.”</p><p>“Do you really think this will work, Hashirama?” Madara asks, sitting up. </p><p>“I’ll need your help, but yes,” Hashirama says, “I think it will.”</p><p>Tobirama sighs, long and resolutely. “<i>If</i>,” Tobirama begins, “we are going to put on a festival, we will need an itinerary for meetings with the daimyo finished at least a week in advance.”</p><p>Hashirama nods, grinning.</p><p>“We will need to have contacted and informed the other clan heads by the end of the day,” Tobirama continues, “we’ll need to have let business owners-”</p><p>“Tobirama, I promise I will do all that you ask of me,” Hashirama interrupts, “<i>after</i> you help me plan this festival.”</p><p>Tobirama grumbles and sits back. “I still don’t think I’m the most qualified to help with this.”</p><p>“The sooner you help me, the sooner you can leave,” Hashirama says, still grinning.</p><p>“… how about a bonfire?” Madara asks quietly.</p><p>Hashirama perks up, interested. “A bonfire?”</p><p>“Is that it?” Tobirama huffs. “Just a bonfire?”</p><p>Madara swings a scowl in his direction. “<i>Just</i> a bonfire?” </p><p>“What I think my brother meant to ask,” Hashirama interjects, gently kicking Tobriama’s leg under the table, “is what exactly will this bonfire entail?” </p><p>Tobirama glares at him, practically pouting, but stays quiet. </p><p>“You know…” Madara waves his hand dismissively. “A bonfire! Get a bunch of dry wood and flammable substances and set it all alight. People love that kind of stuff.”</p><p>“What kind of people?” Tobirama says. “Arsonists?”</p><p>“Then what, Madara?” Hashirama asks, intentionally ignoring his brother’s remark. “We make a fire, then what?”</p><p>“For heaven’s sake, do I have to spell it out for you?” Madara sighs. <i>"Then</i> people eat and drink and dance and be merry, et cetera, et cetera.”</p><p>“I like where this is going,” Hashirama grins, messily dictating this as fast as he can, “it’s simple… but fun!”</p><p>“The Uchiha throw some high caliber bonfires,” Madara says, a little bit of proud fondness in his voice. “Or at least we used to. Before…” He trails off, eyes going distant. “…yeah.”</p><p>“Alright, a bonfire it is!” Hashirama says. “Tobirama, you look like you have something to say.”</p><p>Tobirama tenses under the scrutiny. He clears his throat gently. “Well, since it’s the right time of year for it… maybe we could do the colored lights, too?”</p><p>“The colored lights!” Hashirama exclaims. “Yes, absolutely, I haven’t thought about them in ages!”</p><p>“Colored lights?” Madara sits up a little straighter. “What’s that?”</p><p>“It’s a very old Senju tradition,” Tobirama says, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest a little, “before the Senju emigrated to the area we used to hang colored lights and burn oil lamps and candles when fall arrived.”</p><p>“Remember that year the snow came early?” Hashirama asks, putting his chin in his hand. </p><p>“How could I forget?” Tobirama answers, a nostalgic light in his eyes that Hashirama hasn’t seen in ages. </p><p>“It was so beautiful,” Hashirama sighs, lost in the memory, “everything glittered like crystal… and you could hardly tell where the lights ended and the stars began.”</p><p>“That was also the year you got the bright idea to jump into the river fully clothed and got hypothermia,” Tobirama says, flat as a plateau. </p><p>Hashirama slams his head down onto the table. “Don’t remind me,” he groans weakly.</p><p>“And then you ran off stark naked into the woods and started-”</p><p>“Tobirama!” Hashirama pleads, lifting his head. </p><p>The rest of Hashirama’s complaints expire somewhere in his throat when he catches Madara’s eye. It’s brief – it’s hardly a second before Madara flinches and looks away, clearly not expecting to be noticed, but Hashirama feels like an animal caught in a snare all the same. </p><p>He’s been on the receiving end of Madara’s stares before. It’s probably the most expressive part of the man. He can convey an entire conversation with just a look if he wanted to. But there was something warm in that gaze just now that Hashirama can’t hope to name and it’s making Hashirama’s chest feel a little too tight.</p><p>Hashirama realizes he’s been just sitting there with his mouth hanging open for longer than a normal human interaction would tolerate.</p><p>“Well,” he sits up, clearing his throat, “I suppose that’s settled, then. An autumn lights festival, complete with bonfire.”</p><p>“Thank goodness,” Tobirama sighs, getting to his feet and striding over to the door, “now if you’ll excuse me, some of us have actual work to do today.”</p><p>“Some other poor citizen is in need of your services as a jackass?” Madara calls over his shoulder.</p><p>Tobirama very firmly shuts the door behind him.</p><p>Madara turns back to Hashirama, a little gleam in his eye. “So…” He begins, folding his hands together. “What’s this I hear about you running off into the forest naked?”</p><p>Hashirama buries his face in his hands. </p><p>“Now look, I don’t actually remember any of this,” Hashirama groans, peeking out from the gaps in his fingers, “but <i>apparently</i>… I was so out of it after jumping into the river that I stripped out of my clothes, ran out into the forest, started digging a giant hole with my bare hands, and growled like a bear at anyone who came near me.”</p><p>Madara tips his head back as he starts to <i>cackle</i> with the most maniacal glee Hashirama’s ever seen. That is, until some bit of saliva or phlegm gets caught in his throat and he doubles over, coughing violently into his arm. </p><p>Hashirama leans over to pat his back as Madara’s laughing and coughing merges together into pitiful hacking wheezes, and Hashirama doesn’t bother trying to contain his own laughter. </p><p>“I – <i>gasp</i> – would pay so much money to see that,” Madara wheezes pathetically once he’s able to form words. </p><p>“Please, please, please don’t tell anyone else?” Hashirama asks, jutting out his bottom lip.</p><p>“I make no promises.”</p>
<hr/><p>“I still think this is a bad idea, Hashirama.”</p><p>“Stow it, Kintaro, your paranoia is doing no one any good.”</p><p>“How can we be sure the Uchiha aren’t going to start a fight?”</p><p>“Hashirama knows what he’s doing.”</p><p>“You saw what the Uchiha clan head did to Tobirama! To your brother! Are you just going to let that stand?”</p><p>“Yes I am,” Hashirama has to raise his voice to be heard, “because we aren’t at war anymore.”</p><p>“My brother is right,” Tobirama interjects, “I understand your concerns, but we need to put in the effort to make this work. You all can handle one night of socializing with the Uchiha.”</p><p>“And you’re willing to put all our lives at risk for some fantastical notion of peace?” </p><p>“What did you just say?” Hashirama asks, fighting the urge to grind his teeth. </p><p>Kintaro falters a little at that, shrinking back and dropping his gaze. “I-I’m sorry Hashirama-sama,” he says, “I didn’t mean-”</p><p>“What did you mean then?” Hashirama narrows his eyes. </p><p>Kintaro swallows before he speaks again. “All I’m saying is that you know Madara best. You know what that man is capable of. If anything happens-”</p><p><i>“Enough."</i> </p><p>The meeting hall is unearthly silent. </p><p>Hashirama startles when he feels thin fingers on his shoulder. </p><p>“If I may, Hashirama,” says Fuyo the elder, wrinkled face full of infinite patience.</p><p>Hashirama can only nod, his own words failing him at the moment. Fuyo shakily stands and folds her hands in front of her.</p><p>“In all my years I never imagined I would live to see this day,” she began, “for decades I carried the hope that there would one day be peace with the Uchiha like a childish fantasy. To finally be here is a dream I never thought would come to fruition.</p><p>“But if we fall prey to suspicion and distrust now, then we stand in the way of our own happiness. Hashirama has made the decision to unite with the Uchiha. I trust in that decision and in his ability to lead us through these changing times.”</p><p>Hashirama’s words have now completely abandoned him. His mouth really can’t decide whether it wants to hang open or grin stupidly, and the compromise must not look very dignified, but he can’t be bothered to care. </p><p>“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she continues, “I don’t want to lose any more of you. The Uchiha are our family now. You don’t always get along with your family,” she pauses, looking pointedly at Kintaro, “but you make it work.”</p><p>Kintaro shifts in his seat.</p><p>“I will say no more of this matter,” she says, leaving no room for disagreement as she sits back down.</p><p>Hashirama clears his throat. “Right then,” he says, “anymore questions?”</p>
<hr/><p>“I suppose that could’ve gone worse,” Hashirama sighs, rubbing at his temples.</p><p>“How so?” Tobirama asks, trying his best to look sympathetic.</p><p>Hashirama has to think about it for a moment. “I could have set the room on fire.”</p><p>Tobirama – the bastard – actually has the audacity to chuckle at that. </p><p>“It’s a good thing Fuyo-sama was looking out for you,” he says.</p><p>“Agreed,” Hashirama nods, “what she had to say was much more poetic and significantly less aggressive than what I had planned.”</p><p>Tobirama doesn’t respond at first. His eyes are distant, the thoughts behind them churning. </p><p>“Sometimes I don’t exactly know what you expected, anija,” he says quietly. </p><p>Hashirama tilts his head. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“We’ve been fighting the Uchiha for centuries,” Tobirama says, “did you honestly think that just signing a treaty was going to smooth things over between our clans? Did you think all that animosity was going to disappear?”</p><p>“No, of course not! It’s just… worse than I remember.”</p><p>Tobirama furrows his brow. “Remember?”</p><p>Hashirama’s brain catches up with his wording. “Uh – I mean, worse than I expected.” Crisis averted. Hopefully. </p><p>Tobirama hums thoughtfully.</p><p>“… you know I got the idea from you,” Hashirama admits after a moment.</p><p>“What idea?” </p><p>“The idea to make peace with the Uchiha.”</p><p>Tobirama sits up straighter, looking into Hashirama’s eyes. “Me?” He asks.</p><p>Hashirama nods. “It was… right after Kawarama died.”</p><p>Tohirama’s face hardens.</p><p>“You said that if the adults wanted to stop the fighting, they should make a pact,” Hashirama continues, “an alliance that would prevent senseless death.”</p><p>Tobirama drops his head. “I really did say that, didn’t I?”</p><p>“I never forgot.”</p><p>Tobirama smiles weakly. “My first instinct is to call my younger self naïve, but… look at where we are now.”</p><p>Hashirama smiles back.</p><p>“Do you think this is really possible, anija?” Tobirama asks, just above a whisper. “Do you really think all those years of war and bloodshed can be washed away, just like that?”</p><p>And to his credit, Hashirama actually takes a moment to think about it. </p><p>“No,” he says, “I don’t think they can.”</p><p>Tobirama blinks in surprise. “I don’t underst-”</p><p>“I don’t think all that bloodshed is going to be washed away no matter <i>what</i> we do,” Hashirama continues, emboldened, “we have to acknowledge it. Acting like it never happened is an insult… to erase that part of our history is to undermine the very foundations of our relationship with the Uchiha. It invalidates all the suffering and loss our clans have endured. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.</p><p>“But we can move forward,” he says, twining his fingers together, “we have to try at least.”</p><p>Tobirama stares into his brother’s eyes, silent and searching. Then he sighs, heavy and yielding, and pats the top of Hashirama’s head. </p><p>“How did you get to be so wise?” Tobirama asks.</p><p>Hashirama finds it in himself to laugh. “Practice,” he says, “lots and lots of practice.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Has anyone seen Madara?” Hashirama asks.</p><p>“Not since this morning,” Inori says.</p><p>“The Uchiha?” Taichi asks, scratching his chin. “You’re worried he won’t show?”</p><p>“No!” Hashirama blurts before he has time to check his volume. “Nothing like that. Sorry I’m just… just anxious is all.”</p><p>“Really?” Nara Shizuka comments, lazily eyeing Hashirama. “I never would have guessed.”</p><p>“Oh no, is it that obvious?” Hashirama laments.</p><p>“You’ve been pacing the past fifteen minutes,” Inori replies.</p><p>Hashirama folds in on himself and drops to the ground, hugging his knees. <i>“Oh no…”</i> </p><p>“Come on, you big baby,” Shizuka snakes her arms under his shoulders and hauls him to standing, “on your feet.”</p><p>“If I may, Hashirama,” Inori steps up behind him and starts gently picking at the ends of his hair, “perhaps doing some deep breathing might help?”</p><p>“Just relax,” Shizuka says, grabbing the edges of his haori and straightening them, “we’re only meeting the daimyo of the Land of Fire.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hashirama breathes, “right…”</p><p>“If it’s any consolation,” Inori interjects, now roughly combing through his hair with her fingers, “I’m told he is not an intimidating man in the slightest.”</p><p>“Now, get a hold of yourself,” Taichi slaps a hand across his back, making Hashirama stumble a little bit in surprise.</p><p>“You’re right,” Hashirama says, gradually getting his courage back, “you’re right, I apologize. I’ve just-”</p><p>He tries to gather his words. </p><p>“I very badly want this to work,” he admits, “I want to see the people of this village prosper. I want that more than anything.”</p><p>“Now listen,” Taichi says, gripping both of Hashirama’s shoulders to turn and face him, “I admire your resolve, Hashirama. You have the makings of something really good here, I’ll have you know.”</p><p>Hashirama can’t think to react properly besides blinking stupidly, but his chest swells with a proud – albeit confused – joy. </p><p>“But if you want the Akimichi to join, you have to stick by your decisions, no matter how they pan out!” Taichi claps a hand down on Hashirama’s shoulder again. Hashirama is slightly more prepared for it this time.</p><p>“Have more faith in yourself!” Taichi says. “If you do that, then there’s nothing to worry about! The daimyo is going to be eating out of the palm of your hand after today.”</p><p>“Th-thank you?” Hashirama says, greatly appreciating Taichi’s sentiment but more than a little bewildered by his words.</p><p>“Besides, what kind of noble doesn’t love a party?” Shizuka asks, tossing her dark braid over her shoulder, “he’ll be blown away.”</p><p>“This can’t hurt our chances of winning his favor, Hashirama,” Inori shrugs, the corner of her mouth tugging at a smile.</p><p>Hashirama feels like he’s glowing from all the encouragement. </p><p>“It is a really brilliant idea,” a familiar voice says from behind him, “you’ll have to give my thanks to whoever helped you come up with it.”</p><p>“Madara!” Hashirama exclaims as he whirls around, thankful that he doesn’t scream or jump three feet in the air or something equally embarrassing after being snuck up on for the umpteenth time. “You’re here!”</p><p>“Of course I am,” Madara practically scoffs, “you think I’d miss this?”</p><p>His friend is wearing a beautiful dark blue yukata. Intricate white stitching swirls in hypnotic patterns across the fabric, pale seafoam against dark, tempestuous waves. </p><p>“I’ve never seen you in that before,” Hashirama comments absently, eyes tracing over the stitching, “is that real indigo?”</p><p>Madara’s fingers fidget with the hem of his sleeves. “It’s an… heirloom,” he answers.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Hashirama breathes, reaching out to touch the fabric, “may I?”</p><p>Madara nods, hair falling into his eyes. Hashirama gently pulls at the hem of Madara’s sleeve, coaxing him into releasing it from his own restless grip.</p><p>“Wow,” is all Hashirama can really think to say as he smooths the thick cotton in between his thumb and forefinger, “this is really well made.”</p><p>“Th-thank-” Madara clears his throat roughly and tries again. “Thank you.”</p><p>“I hate to interrupt,” Taichi says before gripping the back of Hashirama’s skull and turning his head toward the road, “but they’re here.”</p><p>The daimyo’s entourage is leisurely approaching the village gate. Hashirama is only a little less surprised than the first time around by what the daimyo defines as an “entourage.” At least fifty people make up the company. Most are tall, intimidating samurai and other shinobi, there to act as a bodyguard detail of some sort, but there also appear to be several other courtiers and attendants. Some are even carrying banners with the Land of Fire’s emblem. </p><p>“Ah, there they are,” the daimyo himself steps forward ahead of the company with outstretched arms, “so good to finally meet all of you in person.”</p><p>Hashirama and the other clan heads bow at the hip. </p><p>“Oh, enough with the formalities,” the daimyo says, waving a rail-thin hand dismissively. It’s fingers are adorned with numerous rings. </p><p>“Thank you for taking time to visit, your grace,” Hashirama says as he straightens up. </p><p>“You must be Senju Hashirama,” the daimyo smiles widely, “and if I’m not mistaken this is Uchiha Madara.”</p><p>“That’s correct, your grace,” Hashirama replies, “and let me introduce Yamanaka Inori, Akimichi Taichi, and Nara Shizuka.” He gestures to each one of them. </p><p>“Excellent, excellent,” the daimyo claps his hands together, “now I understand you’ve organized a sort of… gathering during our stay?”</p><p>“Why yes, your grace,” Hashirama answers, leading the daimyo through the gate, “it might be a little humble for your tastes, but it is a festival based on both Senju and Uchiha traditions.”</p><p>“How quaint!” The daimyo says, sounding absolutely delighted. Hashirama internally rejoices at how well this is going. </p><p>“Tomorrow we can discuss business, but for tonight,” Hashirama extends a hand toward the scene before them, “we hope we can show you a good time.”</p><p>Piled high in the center of the training grounds is a stack of kindling the likes of which Hashirama has never seen before. It burns spectacularly, flames licking up high into the dimming sky. He can feel it’s heat from where he stands half a kilometer away. All around, several stalls and booths have been constructed, and the smell of frying food mingles with the smell of smoke. And strung everywhere, on every surface, are lanterns and oil lamps of every kind and shape and color imaginable. </p><p>And from within him, a long forgotten warmth stirs in Hashirama. His breath catches in his throat and wraps itself around something in his chest. For the first time since he came back, he feels genuinely glad to be alive once more. Seeing the lights one more time was worth it a hundred times over. Hashirama doesn't think he can ever bring himself to look away.</p><p>The daimyo seems suitably impressed as well, and immediately begins to make his way over to the seats set out for him and his company. Shinobi and civilians have already begun to swarm the area, crowding among the stalls and around the bonfire. </p><p>“Well,” Tobirama materializes to Hashirama's left, “how did it go?”</p><p>“About as well as it possibly could, I’d say,” Hashirama says, after he consciously directs himself into breathing once again. </p><p>“I think you might actually be underselling that,” Madara steps over to his right.</p><p>“It’s not over yet,” Tobirama says, “we can’t afford to let our guard down.”</p><p>“You have such little faith in me, Tobi,” Hashirama pouts, “besides it’s a festival. We’re supposed to be having fun.”</p><p>“As long as that fun doesn’t reflect poorly on us,” Tobirama says, rolling his eyes, “then go have fun already.”</p><p>Hashirama turns to Madara. “Are you ready to go have some fun that won’t reflect poorly on us?”</p><p>Madara smirks. “I thought you’d never ask.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I unfortunately had to split this chapter in half because I couldn't get it all edited in time (i also apologize for any mistakes, the bulk of this was edited last night), buuut the good news is that most of the next chapter is already done. With school starting I might have to change my update schedule, but for now it's back to every two weeks.</p><p>Also! I can't believe how much attention and feedback this story is getting!! I am truly honored ;_; </p><p>hmu on tumblr if you're bored @definitely--not--a--raccoon, you can ask me why i think the senju and uchiha emigrated from india/south pakistan (or at least the naruto world equivalents)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. learning the steps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I deeply apologize that this is a few days late, life has got me <sup>fucked up.</sup></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re kidding me,” Madara says, bewildered exasperation plain on his face, “even <i>that’s</i> too spicy for you?”</p><p>If Hashirama were capable of speech at the moment, he would be trying to defend his honor from Madara’s remarks, but as it is, the entire bottom half of his face feels like it’s on fire, and he is busy drinking his fifth glass of water in a row as calmly and gracefully as he can.</p><p>“You alright there Hashirama?” A familiar voice says from behind him, followed by a swift pat on his back.</p><p>“He’s fine,” Madara scoffs, “he’s being a giant baby.”</p><p>“About what, specifically?”</p><p>“He tried some inarizushi that was ‘too spicy’ for him.”</p><p>“Goodness… here Hashirama, eat something bland, it’ll help.”</p><p>A plate of kinako dusted mochi is shoved into Hashirama’s face. He tries not to seem too eager as he shovels one into his mouth.</p><p>“How – <i>cough</i> – how is that not – <i>wheeze</i> – too hot for you?” Hashirama manages to say after swallowing.</p><p>“He’ll live,” Madara says, “thank you for your help, um…”</p><p>“Senju Toka,” she extends a hand for Madara to shake, “it’s nice to finally meet you in a casual setting like this.”</p><p>“Likewise,” Madara says, briefly hesitating before taking her hand. </p><p>“Well, I hope you have fun torturing my cousin,” Toka grins, “but I’ve got to run. I’ve heard there’s plum wine over by the bonfire and I am not going to miss that.”</p><p>She gives a final wave and a wink before bounding off into the crowd.</p><p>“Well,” Madara says thoughtfully, bracing a hand on his hip, “she was certainly very… friendly.”</p><p>“Toka?” Hashirama asks, breathing mostly returned to normal. “I suppose so. Does that surprise you?”</p><p>“Knowing you,” Madara says, raising an eyebrow, “not at all.”</p><p>Hashirama isn’t ashamed to admit he soaks up that statement like a compliment.</p><p>“Awww, you think I’m friendly?” He teases.</p><p>Madara shoves his shoulder in response. <i>“Anyway,”</i> he huffs, “what did you want to do next?”</p><p>Hashirama scratches his chin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”</p><p>Madara locks eyes with him and grins.</p><p>“Plum wine!” They both say in unison.</p><p>“Let’s go before they run out,” Madara says, grabbing Hashirama’s arm.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>Tobirama isn’t quite sure what draws him to the sudden flash of green. There are thousands of colors illuminating the evening, of which green does not inherently stand out. But he finds his eyes snapping toward it, nonetheless.</p><p>A gaggle of children – all clothed in high-collared blues and blacks – are huddled around a small glass bowl from which issues a burning green flame, dimmer than its orange counterparts, but eerily bright, all the same. </p><p>Tobirama watches from a distance for a few minutes, observing the children as they giggle and swarm around the fire, before he swallows his last bit of okonomiyaki and approaches. </p><p>“How did you make that flame turn green?” He calls out to them.</p><p>Every pair of eyes instantly snap up to stare at him and every pair of legs tense in preparation of retreat. </p><p>“You’re not in trouble, I promise,” Tobirama says, sensing their anxiousness, “I just want to know how you did it.”</p><p>For a moment, none of them give a response. They share nervous glances among each other, until the smallest one among them – so small his sleeves drag on the ground – steps forward, holding a small metallic tin aloft. </p><p>“We use this,” he says, holding the tin out to Tobirama, smile full of missing teeth but sincere as anything, “but be careful. You’re not suppose’ to touch your face after you touch it.” </p><p>Tobirama arches an eyebrow at his warning, before popping the round lid of the tin open. Inside is a coarse white powder, unnervingly similar-looking to salt.</p><p>“It’s called bor-b-bora-” The boy furrows his tiny brow in concentration. “Borid-b-bor-”</p><p><i>“Boric</i> acid,” one of the taller children interjects, shyly stepping closer, “i-it comes from dry lake beds.”</p><p>“I see,” Tobirama says, taking the tin out of the little one’s hands and shaking its contents gently, “do you simply burn the powder?” </p><p>“Oh, no we, uh-” Another one of them holds up a wooden canister. “We mix it with this wood alcohol.”</p><p>“Fascinating,” Tobirama says, crouching down closer to the fire to get a better look, “so the alcohol acts as a fuel and the powder gives it its color…”</p><p>“Hey, mister,” the littlest one says, tugging gently on Tobirama’s sleeve, “you sound real smart.”</p><p>“Kagami!” One of the older children takes his hand and shoos him away. “You shouldn’t bother adults like that.”</p><p>“It’s quite alright,” Tobirama says, “you’re not bothering me at all.”</p><p>The little one – Kagami, apparently – perks up at that, smiling brightly. “Really?”</p><p>“Really,” Tobirama assures, hoisting himself to standing, “in fact, you’ve just given me an idea.”</p><p>“What idea?” Kagami asks, practically vibrating in barely contained excitement. “What kind of idea, mister?”</p><p>“My name is Tobirama,” he says, “and how would you like to help me make a fire that’s not just green, but lots of colors all at once?”</p><p>“You can do that?!” Kagami gasps. “Oh, yes, yes, please, please, I’d like that very much!” He starts bouncing up and down. “Thank you, mister!”</p><p>“It’s Tobirama,” he corrects as politely as he can, “now I just need to head to my workshop for a moment, but I will return-”</p><p>“You have a workshop?” One of the other children asks. “Can we come with you?” She clasps her hands together.</p><p>“Yeah, can we come?” Another one pipes up. </p><p>“Please?”</p><p>“What’s a workshop?”</p><p>Within moments, Tobirama is surrounded on all sides by children, expressions ranging from curious to pleading. He smiles. </p><p>“I don’t see why not,” he says.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><i>“That</i> is dangerous,” Hashirama says.</p><p>Madara hums as he drains his cup. </p><p>“I can hardly taste the alcohol,” Hashirama smacks his lips, trying to dislodge the saccharine-sweet taste from the back of his tongue.</p><p>Madara hums again, a pleased little smile on his face. “Not too spicy for you?” He asks.</p><p>“Would you let that go already?”</p><p>“Nope,” Madara accentuates the <i>p</i> with a pop. </p><p>“Well at least I’m not as much of a lightweight as you are.”</p><p>Madara rears back, movements sluggish from the wine, mouth hanging open in offended shock. Hashirama barely has it in him to stifle his laughter at the drunken sincerity in his expression. </p><p>“I am not a lightweight,” Madara jabs a finger at Hashirama.</p><p>“You’re already drunk!”</p><p>Madara’s head lolls to the side as he scowls. “I am <i>not</i> drunk,” he scoffs, “I don’t get drunk. I am just… pleasantly buzzed.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Hashirama bites the corner of his grin.</p><p>“I haven’t been drunk in,” Madara furrows his brow, eyes glancing to the side as he tries to remember, “a long time, okay? And I’m not drunk now.”</p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t believe you.”</p><p>“You want me to prove it?” Madara heaves himself up, a challenge in his eyes. </p><p>“Alright,” Hashirama says, crossing his arms, “go on and prove it.”</p><p>Madara pats down the front of his yukata, lifts his head high, and raises his arms. Then he steps very gracefully forward, one foot following right behind the other. After maybe ten paces, he drops his arms and turns to smirk triumphantly in Hashirama’s direction.</p><p>“That’s it?” Hashirama laughs. “All you did was walk in a straight line.”</p><p>“That’s the test,” Madara says, propping his hands on his hips, “to see if you’re drunk. You have to walk in a straight line.”</p><p>“Anybody can do that!”</p><p>“No they can’t!”</p><p>“Well anyway, you’re Uchiha Madara,” Hashirama lays out the bait, “you’re not just anybody. If you wanna prove you aren’t drunk, you’ll have to do something harder.”</p><p>Madara scoffs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine, then,” he says, cupping his chin in his palm thoughtfully. He looks around, trying to find something suitable to do to appease Hashirama’s standards. </p><p>His gaze lands on the dancers in front of the bonfire. He regards them for a few moments, almost scrutinizing, before shoving his empty cup into Hashirama’s hand. </p><p>“Hold this,” he says, already stalking away.</p><p>Hashirama is almost positive that he’s grinning like an idiot as he watches his friend weave through the crowd. <i>Is he… Is he really going to-</i></p><p>His suspicions are confirmed – <i>delightedly</i> confirmed – as Madara stomps his way right into the line of dancers. This is really happening. </p><p>A few people falter in their steps as Madara approaches – and Hashirama can hardly blame them, he would give anything to know their thoughts as <i>Uchiha Madara</i> barrels into their dance – but quickly get back into the rhythm after a moment, excited bewilderment on their faces. </p><p>Madara looks to his left. Then to his right. </p><p>Then he falls into step. </p><p>Hashirama rubs at his eyes to make sure he isn’t dreaming.</p><p>Madara is <i>dancing</i>. Dancing like he invented it. With steps so smooth they could only come from a lifetime of practice – bouncing from one foot to the other as natural as breathing. </p><p>Hashirama is completely aware that he’s spilling the rest of his plum wine down his front, but he can’t look away for anything in the world right now because when the <i>hell</i> did Madara learn to dance so well?</p><p>And, as is the Madara way, it isn’t long before he decides to up the ante. </p><p>Madara fluidly slips his hands into tiger, tilts his head back and puffs a plume of fire into the air. It twists and writhes until it shapes itself into a bird – a sparrow Hashirama recognizes, fitting since they’re dancing a <i>suzume odori</i> – and flaps its ember wings, soaring high into the night sky. </p><p>The dancers on either side of Madara startle and jump back on reflex, but are quickly overtaken by awe and wonder, cheering and applauding loudly once they realize they aren’t in immediate danger. Madara’s grin is as bright as the flames as he makes the sparrow dip and swoop over the top of the crowd, still stepping in time with the drums even though his hands are occupied. </p><p>And almost as if an alarm had been rung, every single Uchiha in the vicinity starts sprinting over to the bonfire, slipping among the dancers or crowding around the edge of the circle. Madara locks eyes with one of them, breaks his sign and flings the bird in her direction. She folds her own hands into tiger and catches it mid-air, taking control of the bird’s movements while she dances. </p><p>Hashirama is – there’s really no other word for it – he’s <i>spellbound</i> as he watches. The sparrow flutters and plummets through the air as it’s passed back and forth, its motions fluid and graceful as any dance. It’s absolutely breathtaking. </p><p>And Madara. Hashirama’s gaze drops back down to his friend. Face flushed and eyes sparkling, Madara has never looked more at ease in his life. Something twists in Hashirama’s chest. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and is all at once so very grateful he knows Madara. To see him smile and laugh and dance and <i>live.</i></p><p>Hashirama doesn’t notice the presence at his side until it speaks. </p><p>“Enjoying yourself, Hashirama?”</p><p>Thankfully, Hashirama’s cup is empty and has nothing left in it to spill on himself as he jumps. </p><p>“Oh, Hikaku!” He gasps. “I’m sorry, I was just… lost in thought.”</p><p>“That’s alright,” Hikaku says, “it is a very beautiful dance.”</p><p>“It’s incredible,” Hashirama breathes, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”</p><p>He isn’t quite familiar enough with Hikaku’s expressions yet, but he pretty accurately recreates that knowing smile he’s seen on Madara before. The one where he knows something Hashirama doesn’t and wants to be smug about it.</p><p>“If you’ll permit me, Hashirama,” he says, “I have a question to ask you.”</p><p>“Yes of course. What is it?”</p><p>“How did you do it?”</p><p>Hashirama blinks. “Do what, exactly?” </p><p>“You have consistently shown that you have a way of…” Hikaku pauses to tap his chin. “What’s the most polite way to phrase this… <i>dealing</i> with Madara.”</p><p>“I do?” Hashirama asks. “Wait, what do you mean?”</p><p>“Well,” Hikaku begins, crossing his arms over his chest, “if I had asked him about throwing a festival like this, he most likely would have shrugged and huffed and been distant about the entire affair. Probably wouldn’t have even shown up to the damn thing.</p><p>“But you,” he turns to Hashirama fully, “<i>you</i> got him to come. To participate and interact. You actually got him to <i>dance</i>.” His eyes drift back to the bonfire. “I haven’t seen him do that since I was a kid. How on earth did you do that?”</p><p>Hashirama’s heart clenches tightly. This is how the Uchiha perceive Madara? As a distant curmudgeon?</p><p>Not that there isn’t a kernel of truth to that, Hashirama acknowledges, but there is so much more to his friend than that. Madara is brave and deadly and proud and fun and he cares so deeply that the things he loves cut wounds into him. For his own clan not to know who he really is, it’s… it’s a tragedy. It’s unthinkable.</p><p>“To tell you the truth,” he says, stepping closer to Hikaku so he can whisper, “Madara actually helped me come up with the idea.”</p><p>Hikaku’s eyes go wide, a disbelieving grin lighting up his face. </p><p>“No way.” </p><p>“Yes way.”</p><p>Hikaku lets out a single incredulous laugh. “Imagine that…”</p><p>Hashirama tries to gather his thoughts before speaking again. </p><p>“I forget sometimes that not everyone knows Madara like I do.”</p><p>Hikaku tilts his head, waiting for him to continue. </p><p>“I had the privilege to see him outside of the fighting – outside of the war. Without any responsibilities or roles to fill. I got to see him as the kid he was… as the person he was. </p><p>“But even now I’m still learning new things about him. And something I’ve learned recently is Madara likes to know people are on his side. That he’s not alone. I think he… he has a tendency to assume everyone just isn’t, automatically. But when you let him feel welcome – when you go out of your way to show him that, he really shines.”</p><p>Hikaku drops his eyes. </p><p>“… even his own clan?” He asks softly, after a moment. “He thinks we aren’t on his side?”</p><p>“Well, I mean,” Hashirama quickly tries to recover, “it’s not like – I mean – he…” And fails miserably. <i>Shit,</i> he should have phrased that better. </p><p>“It was hard for all of us, you know,” Hikaku continues, still staring at the ground, “the time before the village. Not just for Madara. And he didn’t always make the best decisions for us. But we still followed him. We trusted him.”</p><p>Hashirama feels as though he has touched the surface of a very deep well of resentment in this man. One he couldn’t ever hope to see the bottom of. He tries to choose his next words as carefully as he can. </p><p>“Losing Izuna was…” He begins. </p><p>Hikaku turns back to him, looking him in the eye.</p><p>“It was more than hard on Madara,” Hashirama says, “he told me once that protecting his brother was the only thing he lived for.”</p><p>Hikaku listens patiently, expression unchanging. </p><p>“I can’t pretend to know what your clan has been through,” Hashirama admits, “but I know Madara made his choices with your best interest in mind. That’s not an excuse… you don’t have to forgive him or anything like that. But from what I understand about him, he wants to be a good leader for you. He knows he’s made mistakes in the past, but he wants to make up for it.”</p><p>Hikaku nods thoughtfully, but says nothing for a moment. </p><p>“It would be nice to hear that from his own mouth,” he sighs, eventually, “but… thank you, Hashirama. It does mean a lot to hear that at all. And it means a lot to see him here.”</p><p>He pauses, that knowing grin returning. </p><p>“You’re very good for him, you know that?”</p><p>“O-oh?” Hashirama replies intelligently.</p><p>Something warm and glowing and a little bit proud stirs in Hashirama’s chest at this admission, but a small part of his brain, way, way in the back can’t help but think it… odd, the way Hikaku worded that sentence. He resolves he could spend two lifetimes over and never figure out what Hikaku meant by… <i>that.</i></p><p>“Anyway,” Hikaku says, “now is not the time for sitting around and moping about times past, don’t you think?”</p><p>“I suppose not,” Hashirama smiles.</p><p>“Um, by the way,” Hikaku points at the stained collar of Hashirama’s yukata, “you’ve got something on your…”</p><p>“Oh, right… have you tried the plum wine yet?”<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Inori, my friend, answer me honestly…”</p><p>Inori tilts her head curiously, waiting for Shizuka to continue.</p><p>“Will I be making the right choice by joining this village?”</p><p>Inori sighs, drawn-out and heavy.</p><p>“I’m not entirely sure I made the right choice myself.”</p><p>Shizuka blinks and rears back. </p><p>“Wha-you’re serious?”</p><p>Inori can’t stop the small laugh that bubbles up in her throat.</p><p>“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that surprised before.”</p><p>“Well, does…” Shizuka lowers her voice. “Does that mean you’re considering leaving?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Inori smiles, “the Yamanaka clan is staying right where it is.”</p><p>Shizuka splutters, and it is infinitely endearing.</p><p>“N-now hold on a minute, Inori,” her braid falls over her collarbone as she leans forward, “I’m confused… why stay if you’re unsure?”</p><p>Inori considers her answer for a moment.</p><p>“Have you heard the story of why Hashirama and Madara founded this village?” </p><p>“Well of course,” Shizuka says, “the Senju and Uchiha were bitter enemies until the armistice. But Madara and Hashirama had developed a, uh… <i>friendship</i> as children, and wanted the fighting to end.”</p><p>“That’s part of it, yes,” Inori says, “but that’s not all of it.”</p><p>Shizuka leans in further. “Go on…”</p><p>“Did you know that Hashirama had two other brothers?” Inori says. “Madara was one of five.”</p><p>Cold, bitter understanding contorts Shizuka’s features. </p><p>“I never knew that,” she whispers. </p><p>“The reason they wanted to form this village is so that those who come after us don’t have to suffer the same way we did,” Inori pauses to sigh, eyes sliding closed. </p><p>“I’m… tired, Shizuka. Very tired. And the only thing I want more than peace is a way to ensure that no one else feels the pain that I do ever again. I want to see Hashirama and Madara’s dream come to fruition, and I’m willing to stake quite a lot on it.”</p><p>Shizuka blinks dazedly at her as a crooked grin tugs at her mouth. Then she leans her head back and laughs, sudden as a sunrise.</p><p>“Well, I gotta admit,” Shizuka says, “that was a pretty convincing speech.”</p><p>“I’m rather proud of it myself.”</p><p>“So… it’s a gamble, then?”</p><p>“I’d consider it more of a high stakes investment.”</p><p>Shizuka shakes her head. “Here I go again, leaving things up to chance.”</p><p>“That’s all life is, Shizuka. It’s chance.”</p><p>Shizuka hums thoughtfully. “How about this,” she says, a mischievous gleam in her eye, “I will wager the Nara clan’s loyalty to the village, if… you can best me in a game.”</p><p>Inori tries to bite down a smile. “What kind of game?”</p><p>Shizuka reaches underneath the table and places a ceramic jug sloshing with liquid in between them. </p><p>“I see,” Inori says. </p><p>Shizuka pulls out her cup from her sleeve, and sets it on the table with a loud <i>clack.</i> </p><p>“And if – correction, <i>when</i> – I beat you,” Shizuka smirks, “what will I win?”</p><p>Inori leans forward, tilting into Shizuka’s space. “<i>If</i> you win,” she says softly, trailing her hands across the table, “which you won’t,” she slides her palm over the back of Shizuka’s knuckles, “then I’ll give you,” she dips her head, brushing her lips ever so slightly against Shizuka’s cheek, “a kiss.”</p><p>Shizuka’s face instantly colors, flushed to the tips of her ears. Her throat bobs as she swallows. </p><p>“I’d say those are fair stakes,” Inori chuckles against the warm skin of her cheek, “wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Shizuka nods, so quick that her teeth click together, and Inori decides to have a little mercy on her. She leans back in her seat and withdraws her hand, lingering for just a moment on the scar-dusted skin of Shizuka’s fingers. </p><p>“But don’t forget, Shizuka,” Inori says, “drinking games aren’t only based on chance.”</p><p>She reaches into her clothes and slaps down her cup onto the table. </p><p>“They're also games of skill.”<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Hashirama!”</p><p>Taichi slaps him on the back so hard he almost faceplants into the dirt.</p><p>“A-akimichi-san,” Hashirama winces as he rights himself, “are you enjoying yourself?”</p><p>“I’ll tell you what, Hashirama,” Taichi slings an arm around his neck, “you sure know how to throw a party. I haven’t had a chance to let loose like this in years.”</p><p>“Well, I’m glad you’re – <i>erk-”</i> Taichi’s bicep squeezes around his windpipe. <i>“I’m glad you’re having fun.”</i> Hashirama squeaks. </p><p>“You have to join us, Hashirama, we were just about to start a game of dice,” Taichi says as he begins dragging Hashirama along with him. </p><p>“Oh! What are you playing?” Hashirama asks, briefly enthralled by Taichi’s offer before violently snapping back to his mission. “Wait, no, hold on,” he manages to slip his head out of Taichi’s grip and puts a step of space between them. </p><p>“Before I do, have you seen Madara?” Hashirama asks, a little breathier than he expected. </p><p>“Madara?” </p><p>“I’ve lost track of him, do you know where he is?”</p><p>Taichi scratches his chin. “I’ve hardly seen the guy all night, sorry.”</p><p>“That’s alright,” Hashirama sighs, “I’ll keep looking.” </p><p>He politely bows and starts heading toward the eastern edge of the field. “I’ll play the next round!” He calls over his shoulder.</p><p>After one or two minutes of scanning the crowd he spots Inori sitting in the grass.</p><p>“Yamanaka-san!” He calls, bounding over to her. “I wanted to-”</p><p>He stalls in his question as he catches sight of the slumped and very unconscious figure draped across her lap.</p><p>“Is that… Nara-san?” </p><p>Shizuka’s face was plastered against the fabric of Inori’s thigh, lax and almost serene as she snored and sniffled in her sleep.</p><p>“She had a little too much to drink, I think,” Inori says, patting her back gently, “did you need something?”</p><p>“Ah, yes I was wondering if you’d seen Madara lately.”</p><p>“I saw him dancing by the bonfire a little while ago,” she smiles, “that man is a <i>firecracker.</i> You are very lucky, Hashirama.”</p><p>Hashirama’s thought process comes to a halt for a moment before he decides to decipher that last statement another time. </p><p>“Well, have you seen him since then?” He asks.</p><p>“I’m afraid I haven’t,” she shakes her head.</p><p>“Thank you anyway, Yamanaka-san,” he says, “enjoy the rest of your night.”</p><p>It’s about ten minutes later, after searching high and low, and still no sign of Madara. Hashirama’s genuinely getting worried now. Did something happen? Did he go home already without telling anyone? </p><p>He’s broken out of his thoughts as he rounds a corner and sees the most spectacular, rainbow-colored fire. </p><p>It’s much smaller than the central bonfire, but it’s easily just as vibrant. Tendrils of blue, green and even purple swirl alongside the traditional oranges and yellows as the flames flick into the air. A troop of children are circling the fire, prodding it with sticks and jumping around it, hollering and shouting into the night. </p><p>“Whoa…” Hashirama exhales as he treads closer. </p><p>He spies a familiar head of white hair nestled among the children, and finds Tobirama crouched down next to the fire, several children practically crawling all over him. Hashirama snorts into his hand to muffle his laughter. </p><p>“Well, you certainly look like you’ve had an interesting night,” Hashirama says. </p><p>Tobirama looks up, concentration broken. “Hello, anija,” he smiles. </p><p>“Hey, mister,” a boy no older than five says from his perch atop Tobirama’s shoulders, “look at our fire!”</p><p>“I see it,” Hashirama gazes up at it for a few moments, “how on earth did you get the fire to change color like that, little one?”</p><p>“Mister Tobi-t-toba-i-ra-”</p><p><i>“Tobirama,”</i> his brother sighs, “my name is Tobirama.”</p><p>“Yeah, mister Tobira-uh-rama helped us!”</p><p>“It was actually pretty simple,” Tobirama says, “I just gathered a few materials that burn different colors when ignited. We used part of a copper tube, placed some chlorinated vinyl inside, and tossed it into the fire.”</p><p>“Chlorinated vinyl?” Hashirama asks.</p><p>“It’s a garden hose!” A child to his right chimes in.</p><p>“Yes, and on that note, Hashirama,” Tobirama clears his throat, darting his eyes away, “I need to buy you a new garden hose.”</p><p>Hashirama laughs. “I’d say the old one went to a good cause. This is incredible!”</p><p>A tug on his sleeve draws Hashirama’s attention down.</p><p>“Excuse me,” a small and very polite little girl asks, “can you play with us?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m very sorry, little one,” he kneels down to her height, “I’m actually looking for someone. I can’t play right now.”</p><p>“Can I help you find them?” She asks. </p><p>“That’s alright, dear I can find him on my own,” Hashirama says, although it almost pains him to tell the poor thing no, “but you’re very sweet to offer to help.”</p><p>“You’re looking for Madara?” Tobirama asks. </p><p>“Yes, how did you know?” </p><p>“Who else would you be looking for?”</p><p>Hashirama opens his mouth to argue. </p><p>“He’s not here,” Tobirama says before Hashirama gets the chance.</p><p>“Not here?” </p><p>“His chakra is somewhere in the northern part of the village. My guess is he’s near the cliff face.”</p><p>Hashirama blinks. Up near the cliff face? </p><p>“I know where he is,” he says, about to rush off before he freezes in his tracks and turns around, “I’ll see you at home tonight, Tobi!” </p><p>“Don’t stay out too late,” Tobirama grumbles over his shoulder as Hashirama sprints off toward the village center. </p><p>The streets are completely deserted. As the music and smell and warmth fades away behind him, a stark and still calm falls over the world. The silence is deafening and the wind is bitter cold. Hashirama stalls at one point just to look at the stars, delicate and distant as the dimming candle flames. </p><p>He forgoes the winding and sloping path up to the clifftop and opts to just run straight up its side, like he used to when he was a kid. He hurls himself over the edge and stands, dusting off his clothes. </p><p>His eyes land on the crouched figure near the cliff’s ledge. </p><p>“Madara?” </p><p>The shape doesn’t move, curled in on itself but unmistakable. </p><p>“Madara, is everything alright?</p><p>A painful silence passes. </p><p>“You shouldn’t be here, Hashirama,” Madara’s voice is muffled. </p><p>“Why ever not?”</p><p>“You should be out there,” Madara’s chin lifts just barely, gesturing toward the glittering lights far away, “having fun. Not wasting your time here.”</p><p>Hashirama’s breath catches, heart sinking. </p><p>“You’re never a waste of time, Madara,” he says softly, “please tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>“Everything’s fine, Hashirama. I-” Madara sighs, head dropping to his chest. “No… I’m sorry, that was a lie.”</p><p>Hashirama gingerly settles himself next to Madara in the dirt, hugging his knees to his chest. “Talk to me,” he says.</p><p>Madara raises his head, eyes glassy and dim, and it <i>hurts</i> to see him like this. Hashirama’s fingers itch to reach out, to soothe, to make it better, <i>anything</i>. Anything to make Madara better.</p><p>“Do…” Madara swallows before he continues. “Do you ever feel like… you aren’t meant to have this?”</p><p>Hashirama’s stomach flips. “What do you mean?” He asks, even though he knows. He knows with horrible clarity what Madara means.</p><p>“The village…” Madara says. “The peace… all of it. I don’t feel like I… deserve it.”</p><p>Hashirama lets his head fall back, looking up into the night sky. </p><p>“I sometimes wish I had been sent back earlier than I was,” he admits.</p><p>Madara’s eyes snap toward him, some light returning to them. “You mean, when you were…”</p><p>Hashirama nods. “That way, maybe I could have saved my brothers. Maybe I could have saved yours. Maybe I could have saved a lot of people.”</p><p>Hashirama shuts his eyes. </p><p>“They weigh on me. All these lives. And far too often I feel like I can’t – I <i>shouldn’t</i> be happy without them here with me.”</p><p>Madara chuckles, and it’s a dry, caustic thing. </p><p>“We really are cursed men, Hashirama,” he says, barely above the silence. </p><p>“I don’t believe that,” Hashirama replies, without thinking.</p><p>Madara looks up at him again, the life in them brighter still. </p><p>“I think we can live without the ghosts of the past haunting us,” Hashirama continues, “I think we can be happy – that we’re <i>allowed</i> to be happy after everything. Or we can at least try.”</p><p>He debates for a moment whether it’s too soon in the conversation to start teasing. </p><p>“You were certainly trying earlier tonight,” he settles on, nudging Madara’s shoulder.</p><p>Madara groans and tucks his head in between his knees. “I shouldn’t have had that much to drink.”</p><p>“I liked it,” Hashirama says, before running over the sentence a few times in his mind and backtracking, “I mean – that is to say – it was nice seeing you open up like that.”</p><p>One of Madara’s eyes peeks out from behind his bangs. </p><p>“I mean it,” Hashirama smiles, “you really should dance more often.”</p><p>Madara shoves him so hard he almost hurdles over the cliff’s edge.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>A sudden slap to his shoulder has Hashirama instantly and miserably awake.</p><p>“I’m up!” He almost shouts, blinking and sitting up right in his chair.</p><p>“Not so loud, if you please,” Inori mumbles from across the table, rubbing roughly at her temples.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” Hashirama whispers, and he really wants to know what he was <i>thinking,</i> planning a full morning of meetings the day after a village-wide festival.</p><p>Inori switches from her temples to her eyelids, pressing on them and humming discontentedly. Hashirama doesn’t think the woman could ever look ‘disheveled,’ but a few strands of hair have slipped out her tie, which is as unkempt as Hashirama has ever seen her. Taichi is literally asleep, pillowed on his arms and snoring loudly. </p><p>Other than Tobirama, Shizuka looks the least hungover out of anyone – miraculous, considering he saw her passed out drunk in Inori’s lap last night – but Hashirama suspects that whatever she’s sipping on from the metal flask at her hip is helping her get through the morning. </p><p>“Honestly, pull yourselves together,” Tobirama huffs, “the daimyo is going to be here any minute. And where the hell is Madara?”</p><p>“Need something to perk you up?” Shizuka slides the flask over to Inori.</p><p>Inori takes it from her and unscrews the cap. Before Hashirama can open his mouth to warn her that its contents are probably not very pleasant-tasting, Inori brings it to her lips, tips her head back, and swallows the rest of the flask’s contents in a single swig.</p><p>Hashirama’s jaw swings open. Inori doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even grimace. Shizuka’s eyes actually widen a bit as she watches. </p><p>“Thank you, Shizuka,” Inori says, calmly screwing the cap back on and returning it.</p><p>“The pleasure’s all mine,” Shizuka says, a sly grin creeping over her features. </p><p>Inori turns to Taichi to shake him awake. He continues to snore. </p><p>The door to the meeting room slides open, and Inori elbows Taichi in the side. He grunts and jerks into consciousness. </p><p>One of the daimyo’s courtiers steps into the room carrying a small pile of scrolls with him. </p><p>“I apologize on behalf of the daimyo,” he says, “but he is still… indisposed from last evening and will be late to arrive.”</p><p>Everyone visibly relaxes. Taichi slumps back in his chair and sighs.</p><p>“However, he did ask me to deliver these for you to read over until he arrives,” the courtier sets the scrolls on the table. </p><p>Tobirama carefully reaches for one and unrolls it. His eyes scan the writing for a moment. </p><p>“The daimyo…” Tobirama reads aloud, pausing to absorb the contents. “He wants us to elect someone to represent the village.”</p><p>Hashirama is a little ashamed to admit he had almost forgotten about the hokage election, but it’s overshadowed entirely by the crystal-clear, bordering on the divine clarity he suddenly feels. For the first time since being brought back, Hashirama finally – <i>finally</i> has a plan.</p><p>He needs to get Madara elected.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i know everybody and their mom puts festival chapters in their fics, but i still wanted to write this. it came out MUCH more dialogue heavy than i intended lol. </p><p>Also, yeah, I really really really want to finish this fic, and I am going to! the fire has not dimmed, but i might have to slow down a bit with school. I'm going to try doing once a month updates and see how that goes, next one being 9/30. I really want to be consistent.</p><p>AND big thank you to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trzDg-ZqFM0&amp;t=473s">this</a> video that teaches you how to change the color of your campfire</p><p>Edit: my laptop broke ;_; so the update will probs be a few days late while I try and get it fixed sorry about that</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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